When I release her, she giggles, crossing her legs as she looks out the door. Her eyes grow sad, and I turn to follow her gaze to where my things are packed up and ready to be loaded into my Volvo.
“You’re leaving,” she says, and even though her words are even, there’s an undercurrent of disbelief hidden in them. Almost like she’d been expecting me to stay.
“Duty calls. All the time we’ve spent together, and our futures were never discussed? We both knew this wasn’t going to last.”
She tilts her chin up, finding my eyes, and the misery that swells in her sapphire gaze is almost my undoing. Almost enough for me to say fuck it, drag her to a back room and keep her my happy little secret forever—not because I’m ashamed, but because I don’t want to fucking share her with the rest of the world.
Which is exactly why I’m not asking her to go with me.
“Don’t look at me like that, pretty girl.” I pinch her jaw, slightly rougher than necessary, and swipe my thumb over the scar at the corner of her mouth. “This has been quite the learning experience for the both of us, but you know what they say. All’s well that doesn’t end well.”
She frowns, jerking away. “That’s not the saying, and you know it.”
“Doesn’t matter. If a crabby tattoo shop girl says it, it must be true, right?”
Surprise flickers across her face, and I smother the satisfaction that crests inside me. “You heard her that night?”
“I heard everything.” My hands fall to my sides, and I spread them out over my thighs. “I won’t lie and say I wasn’t hoping that my quip about fate intervening was true, but it probably makes sense that it wasn’t. We’re from far different worlds, aren’t we?”
“Yeah,” she says, dropping her gaze and the underwear in her hands. “I guess we are.”
She swallows, and my heart aches. Begs. Yearns. For all of her—body, mind, soul. Whatever pieces of herself she’d allow me to enjoy, I believe in this moment that I’d take them and run, damn the consequences.
“Were you always planning to leave?”
I nod, not wanting to add lies to my list of offenses. “I was supposed to ruin you.”
She laughs, but the sound is hollow. Empty. Not the lilted caress I’ve come to love from her.
“Do you think you haven’t?”
Glancing away, I scrub at the underside of my jaw, sucking on my teeth. “Then I guess I’ve accomplished what I needed to, hm?”
“Oh, good. Asshole Aiden’s back.”
“He never left.”
Her shoulders slump, and she tucks her pink hair behind her ears, scoffing. Christ, she’s never looked more beautiful than when she’s upset with me.
Hurting her shouldn’t arouse me so much, but it does, and before I know what I’m doing, I’m dropping to my knees at the foot of the bed and crawling between her jean-clad thighs.
Her nostrils flare as she looks down at me. “Do you honestly think sex is going to soothe my wounds?”
“I don’t fucking care if it does,” I say, pushing her back so she’s flat on the mattress. I hook my fingers in her waistband and tug them down, ignoring the look of disgust on her face. “I’m trying to soothe mine.”
“Well, I don’t think we should—”
“And I’m still not taking no for an answer. Shut up and let me taste you one last fucking time.”
She doesn’t utter another word as I yank her pants off her feet and throw them over my shoulder, then bury my face between her thighs. Within seconds, she’s pulsing against my tongue, hips grinding desperately, fingers twisting in my hair and pulling tight.
I ignore the expectant gleam in her eyes as I wipe my mouth on the inside of her leg. My mouth dries up as she continues lying there, slightly dazed and dripping.
My cock throbs behind my zipper, but I will it to soften, knowing without checking the watch on my arm that I don’t have time to fuck her fully. At least, not literally.
Riley doesn’t move as I continue about the room, double-checking to make sure I’ve grabbed and packed everything of significance. When I go back to the suitcase on the bed, she rolls to her side and watches me struggle to close it.
“You wanted to know what happened that night,” she says after a few silent moments, and the blood freezes in my veins, curiosity spinning an intricate web inside my chest.
I don’t want to miss my flight, but I don’t want to miss this more.
“My scars,” she begins, her hand automatically reaching up to sweep over the ones on her face. I glance down at the one on her hip, emotion lodging in my throat, and she looks up at the headboard. “One of my mom’s boyfriends was this drug runner for a local mob outfit. She’d been involved in that kind of thing for as long as I could remember, so I never thought anything of it when she started bringing him around. In retrospect, he was her longest relationship, and now… well, I guess I know there was a reason why.”
Blowing out a breath, she rolls onto her stomach, spreading her palms over her abdomen. I note that she’s not even trying to cover herself in any capacity, leaving her pussy bare for my eyes only, and I’m not sure if she’s too engrossed in her memories, or if that means something.
It probably doesn’t.
How could it? All I’ve done is take from her.
“Anyway, most of the attack is a blur. One second, I was sitting on our ratty old couch doing homework, and the next, my back had shattered our coffee table.” A pause. She glances at me as if checking to see if I’m still paying attention.
I inch closer, my mind stuck on the word attack.
As if I could focus on anything but.
“I was legally dead for like, two full minutes. Maybe that’s why faking my death was so easy.”
It’s an attempt at a joke that she punctuates with a nervous laugh, but it doesn’t hit. I don’t move, don’t blink, and she sighs, crossing her legs.
“It, uh, took me to a pretty bad place for a long time. The stuff the doctor said he’d done to me… I can’t remember it fully, just bits and pieces, but I know it was bad. New York was the first non-school function I’d gone to since the attack, and, well. We both know how that night ends.”
My eyes are glued to her hip, and now I’m imagining a man standing over her and carving into her flesh. Stealing a life that didn’t belong to him, taking innocence he wasn’t worthy of.
I try not to think about how my coming here and torturing her must have felt, after all that.
“I’ve never slept with anyone,” she’d told me, and I don’t know what the fuck I thought she meant, but it wasn’t something as gruesome as this.
“I swear to you, I had nothing to do with that rumor.” Licking her lips, she sits up. “I hadn’t even told anyone but Fiona about meeting you, and I didn’t even know about the allegations until I’d gotten back home. You have to believe that, Aiden.”
I don’t say anything. Can’t. The words don’t form, my lungs struggling to work properly the longer I listen to her horror story.
One I punished her for.
Agony rips through my spine, notching like a knife between each vertebrae, and bile teases the back of my throat. I press my palms harder into my legs, trying to catch my breath.