Page 31 of The Destruction You Desire

"Come on, P. I'll take you home."

I stare at Luca passed out and then back at Leon who's standing in the doorway.

He must be able to read my mind because his brows pull together and he shakes his head.

"No, Peyton. He doesn't deserve it."

"I-I know but—"

"You should leave him to suffer after the way he's treated you."

"I know what I should do, Leon," I snap, irritated by his judgmental tone. "But things aren't always that simple."

His brow lifts. "You really want to do this? Fine, be my guest but don't come crying to me when he kicks your ass to the curb again."

"It won't come to that, Lee. I'm just gonna make sure he doesn't choke on his own puke."Just like he did for me last night.

As vicious and evil as he's been to me, I still desperately want to believe that there's a good person under all that hate and frustration at the world.

Leon leaves, slamming the door behind him to ensure I know how he feels about my decision to stay.

I understand why he's pissed at me.

Hell, I know I'm crazy. But I can't help it.

I just can't walk away right now and leave him in that state. I'd rather stay and make sure he's okay than lie in bed at home worrying about him.

I know I shouldn't worry, but it's Luca. No matter how wicked he is, no matter what he says to me, what he accuses me of, he'll always be under my skin.

With a sigh, I walk toward his bed and lower down beside his feet that are sticking off the end of the mattress.

I pull his sneakers off, then his socks and with all my strength, I manage to roll him over.

"You don't make this easy, do you, Dunn?" I pant out as I try to straighten him up.

Popping the button on his jeans, I wrap my fingers around the waist and attempt to pull them down over his hips. Only, I don't get very far because the second I clear his ass, his hand shoots out and wraps around my wrist.

My heart jumps into my throat in shock.

"Shit, Luc. I—"

When I look up, he's staring right at me.

The mask I've been used to staring at during the past few weeks is gone. He looks just like he did the other night when he came to The Locker Room after seeing his dad.

Exhausted. Lost. Utterly broken.

He blinks as silent seconds pass. His fingers retain their tight grip on me, and I start to think that he's still asleep and has no idea what he's doing. But then he lifts his arm and tugs so hard that I have no choice but to fall into the bed and on top of him.

Before I have a chance to scramble off him, he rolls onto his side, taking me with him and locking his arm around my waist.

His nose nuzzles into my neck causing fire to shoot through my veins and goose bumps to prick my skin.

Damn it, body.

"Don't leave me, Peyton. Please. I-I need you."

The vulnerability in his voice makes my breath catch.