Page 39 of White Raven (Nevermore Duet #2)

She panted, gripping his shoulders, “I know you want it, Brent. You kissed me back.” He did want it…just not from her. She lowered her mouth to his again, not allowing time for a rebuttal, and a scuffing sound sounded from the kitchen.

“Wow…”

That voice…no.

Brent jerked away, sliding Dr. Ambrose off his lap, and springing to a stand—Wren’s completely irate figure bracing against the kitchen counter.

“Wren? How did you—”

“Your fucking door was wide open. Which I’m now going right back out of.” She turned on her heel and started out the door. Brent tried his best to button his shirt as he raced after her.

“Wren! Wait! This isn’t…” She wasn’t sticking around to hear whatever excuse he was trying and failing to come up with. God only knew what she was thinking right now, and he couldn’t blame her. He reached out to grab her elbow, and she spun around, her red and blonde hair bouncing into her face.

“If you’re about to say it isn’t what it looks like, then you can fuck right off, Brent.” She jerked her arm out of his grip and raised it in the air like she could beat him like a drum, shaking her head in restraint.

“Wren, you don’t have any reason to believe me. I know that. Just…let me try to explain. Please?”

“Who is this?” Dr. Ambrose asked from behind him. Brent squeezed his eyes shut. “Is this your girlfriend?”

“ Absolutely fucking not,” Wren snapped. “Who’s the cheerleader?” Her eyes narrowed on him, and his heart sped up.

“ Cheerleader? ” Ambrose echoed. “Okay, look…I think we just need to calm down.”

“And I think…you need to mind your own fucking business and go back in that fancy apartment before I decide to be aggressive…be-be-aggressive .”

“Wren, she’s not—she’s my doctor, okay? There’s nothing—”

“Your doctor? ” Wren scoffed, smiling like she was about to commit murder, and tossing her head back. “What happened? She forget her tongue depressor, and decide to use her own instead? Got something lodged in your throat?”

“Wren, please…calm down.”

“Tell me to calm down, again. I dare you. Might wanna keep her around, cause if you take another step towards me, you’ll need a fucking doctor, Stratford.”

The guilt he felt was heavy, but the conflict was heavier.

He’d wanted nothing more in the past few weeks than to be with her.

They’d talked about what happened in the hospital.

She told him to keep his distance, and he honored that.

Then at the funeral, she came. She came, and he remained at a distance…

because she never made it clear that she wanted anything else.

Even if it wasn’t what it appeared to be on that couch, how was this his fault?

He gave her exactly what she asked him for, even though it was a struggle every damn day to stay away from her.

Brent tested her and took a step forward.

“Hit me then, Wren. If it’ll make you feel better, then hit me.

” She trembled and stared at him like she was contemplating it, but said nothing, locking onto his eyes.

“I’ll say it again. This is not what it looks like, but if it were?

Would you really care? Can you really be that pissed at me, Wren?

Do you have any fucking idea how hard it’s been for me?

You asked me to back off, and I did. I check my phone every fucking day hoping your name comes up, and it doesn’t.

I’ve been totally understanding about giving you space…

time. How can you honestly stand there and hate me? ”

“Because that’s easier, Brent!” she screamed, a single tear ripping down her cheek as she shoved him back. “It’s always been easier! God, I can’t believe I fucking…you know what? Fuck this.” She threw her hands up and turned away, storming back to the elevator.

“Right, Wren! Run away! Run away, cause it’s so much fucking easier than feeling something!” Brent argued, chasing after her with heavy strides.

“Fuck you!” she sniffled, stepping into the elevator and slamming her fist on the button inside. The doors started to close, and Brent threw his arm out, stopping them and bracing a hand on the side.

“Why did you come over here, Wren?” he asked, standing in the doorway so she couldn’t leave.

“Lemme go!” she seethed, hitting the button again.

“Tell me why!” The doors tried to close, and he pushed them back. “Why now, when I’ve been waiting since I kissed you that night at the hospital? Did you come here because I made an ass out of myself again, and you were waiting to point me to the nearest speeding bus?”

“No, asshole! I came here because I fucking love you, and I thought you were hurt! I was worried!” The look of shock on her face probably matched his own.

She didn’t mean to say what she just said.

Brent staggered back, watching a tear roll down her face as her mouth parted and the doors started to close.

The elevator dinged, and he slowly turned around, Ambrose standing in the hallway with her arms crossed, and a smirk on her face.

“Take the stairs. I’ll see myself out,” she said softly, walking back inside to get her stuff. Brent stumbled, still dumbfounded, as he threw the door open to the stairwell and started racing the elevator back down.

Idiot…she was such a damned fool.

To think for one second that this was gonna be easy, was an impossible notion.

For it to be this instead, was something entirely different.

The way her body drew up in rage when she saw that bitch’s mouth on his…

there wasn’t any denying that green monster of jealousy.

Or that insufferable, disgusting emotion that she’d just let outta the bag.

She said it. Black and white. Unmistakable.

Un-take-backable. Dammit. Shit, shit, shit…

The cables on this elevator would have to snap and drop her five stories if she had any hope of outrunning this shit.

Her heart felt like it could either explode or shatter, and neither one was welcome.

She pulled her phone out to call Sarah, but didn’t have a single bar of service in this elevator.

Her eyes kept leaking, and her nose wouldn’t stop running.

This was the one damn thing she was desperately trying to avoid.

Maybe he was right. Hating him was easier than feeling something.

Letting yourself love someone was a risk that was always too terrifying to take.

It meant that she could be crushed into more broken pieces than she already was and damn him for being the one she fell for.

Wren inched backward until her back hit the wall, and she rested her head on it and let herself break, crying silently and wiping her nose on the sleeve of her black hoodie.

She’d never known emotion like this. The kind that lingered in her chest with physical pain.

It was so unforgiving and raw, and demanded to be felt.

How fucking annoying. The elevator finally stopped, and she wiped beneath her eyes, trying to pull herself together before the doors opened to the lobby… but when they did…

Brent stood in front of her, panting with a thin sheen of sweat on his forehead, and his shirt half-buttoned. Several people waited behind him, confused and nosy as fuck—as usual. Even the doorman stared in their direction.

“Move,” Wren croaked, refusing to look him in the eye. He held a hand over the side of the door.

“No. You love me?” His breathing was unsteady, and she couldn’t figure out if it was because he just ran down a thousand flights of stairs, or because every part of him was dying to hear her admit it. Maybe it was both.

“If I say yes, will you let me leave?”

He didn’t even hesitate…the stupid fucker. “No.” His blonde hair was damp with sweat and fell over his eyebrow, and fuck …why did he suddenly seem so hot? Hating him was so much easier than this. “You love me, Wren?”

“Yes…and I hate you for it.”

There. She told him. Could she go home and hide under her blanket now? Take an acid bath? Drink bleach?

Brent’s jaw twitched, and his eyes saw right through hers, and there were about two seconds between the one he took to consider his next move, and the one he took to cross that short distance between them and take her chin before crushing his mouth on hers.

Every single muscle in her body turned into pudding and she barely heard the sounds of cooing and whispering over the choppy breathing through their noses.

It was a war of tongues and teeth. Her hands went straight for whatever buttons he’d been able to hitch up on his way down, tearing them open and relishing in the sound they made when they scattered on the floor of the elevator.

The doors shut as she ripped the shirt down his shoulders, and the zipper on her jacket made an ungodly noise when he jerked it down.

He grabbed her waist and turned them to the opposite wall, lifting her shirt over her head just before her back slammed against the cold metal and she went for his belt.

Whatever gentleness he put into that kiss at the hospital was gone now.

His lips still felt as plump and soft as they had before, but there was so much more aggression and need to them as they tore over hers.

His pants dropped, and he kicked both shoes off, ripping her leggings down her thighs and forcing her out of them just as the doors opened again and whatever kind soul that reached in, pressed the button for Brent’s floor.

The elevator started moving, and Wren threw her arms around his neck as he gripped her thighs and lifted her up against the wall, breaking away from her mouth so he could kiss his way down her throat.

It felt good. So fucking good. Her fingers tangled in his hair and her legs coiled around his hips, shaking when he pushed himself inside her.

Wren’s head fell back, and she hissed, gasping as he eased out, and thrust back in.

That groan in his throat set her on fire, and she couldn’t help but cry out when he did it again…

again… again . His marred hands slid up her sides and under her arms, gripping the back of her shoulders as he set a delicious pace and raised his face back up to watch her lose it.

“You feel like you hate me,” he grunted, rocking his hips and nipping at her chin with his teeth. “You feel like you hate me a lot.” He pulled the strap of her black bra down her shoulder and trailed his mouth alongside it, making her spine curl, and her back arch against the wall.

Wren gripped his hair, forcing his head back and leaning into his face as she bit his bottom lip. “Lie to me, Stratford,” she moaned, meeting his thrusts. “Lie to me and tell me you weren’t thinking about me when that bitch’s tongue was in your mouth.”

He groaned, kissing her again and fucking a little harder, wrapping her hair around his fist. “I haven’t thought about your infuriating ass at all for the past month, Vintorri.”

She moved a hand under his chin, and squeezed, hushing him with her mouth and whispering into it through a breathy moan. “Bitch-boy.”

He jerked her head back. “Cunt.”

The doors chimed open, and he dropped his hands to the swell of her ass, digging his fingertips into it as he walked them out of the elevator and carried her down the hall, impressively fucking her the entire way to his door before kicking it shut behind them.