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It makes me feel weird, to be honest. People might think it’s great to be the centre of attention when they walk into a room, but I can’t stand it. I’d rather be invisible.
Her hair flows down her back in curls, freckles dusting over her skin, and those eyes are fucking killing me. They aren’t blue, maybe a light green mixed with silver, like a forest in winter.
Butterflies,
I wonder if she feels them too?
Ah, fuck. Freckles is even prettier when she’s mad.
“I could look at you all day, do you know that?”
At that point, he was everything.
And I lost him.
“You’re distracting me.”
“Me? You’re the fucking distraction here.”
“I have plenty to say to you, but all I can think of is how sick you make me.”
“That’s all?”
“I hate...
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“Y...
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“Not as much as I hate you.”
“I don’t want to go near you,”
“I can’t stand you.”
“If I disgust you so much, then why are you hard?”
I’d quietly opened the door and ushered my dogs in with her, because I knew no one would try to slide into the room if they were there.
No one fucks Stacey and gets away with it. I can’t have her, but nobody else will.
Stacey laughs at something Tylar said. She’s not even funny.
She’s called me every name under the sun, and it makes my day ten times better.
Through the fire, I see her again. This time, she’s already looking at me. There’s a jolt in my stomach, then a flutter.
I watch the girl I’ve obsessed over since I was fifteen strut towards the tent with no care in the world, her hips swaying, hair falling down her back – frozen until Base taps me.
“If you’re scared, you can admit it.” I don’t know how I manage to say that without throwing up. “Do you want to pretend?”
I don’t like touch. It makes me feel uneasy, but my hand has a mind of its own as I feel the sharpness of her jawline, gliding my fingers up until they’re brushing into her thick hair. Stacey shivers in my hold, and I want her to do it again, to show that she can react to me. It’s addictive.
I can feel her smile against my mouth.
And then… butterflies. I have fucking butterflies while kissing someone. What the fuck is wrong with me?
You’re everywhere yet nowhere. A fucking disease.”
“Fuck. I hate you. I fucking hate you.”
I raise my hips. “You feel like you hate me.”
“Rock your hips into my cock, Freckles,” he whispers quietly, and I nearly whimper. “I fucking dare you.”
“Kade. We shouldn’t be doing this.”
“I know. Keep fucking doing it.”
“When I find out who hurt you, I’m going to fucking destroy them. I’ll make sure to bleed them dry then fuck you next to their corpse. You got that?”
The best eight words I’ve ever heard in my eighteen years of walking this earth.
She must think I’m a weirdo, but I like her touch. I like how she tastes. I like the way her breathing stutters as I kiss her neck.
“You think I’m stuck here? That’s insulting, son. It would take me less than a day to be out of here and halfway to Scotland.”
I hate her, but I can’t live without knowing what she’s doing.
“For someone who can’t stand me, you seem to remember a lot about me.”
“It wasn’t…” What you think. “I didn’t…” Want to do it.
Because fuck him. Losing your voice to everyone is one thing, but losing your voice to someone you loved – trusted – is ten million times worse.
“Beg me to keep going.”
“Please put my cock back in your fucking mouth.”
“Still hate me?”
“Stop talking.”
“And stop smiling at her.”
“Touch her again and I’ll blow your fucking head off.”
“You want my business, none of you will touch her, look at her or even acknowledge her presence.”
I could look at her forever – the different shades of light green looking back at me; the way her pupils dilate as I absently reach my hand forward, twirling a dark strand around my finger.
