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“You want someone who can challenge you. Excite you. Keep you on your toes. And as for what you need…” His whiskey-scented breath gusted across my skin, peppering it with a thousand goosebumps. “You need someone to bend you over and fuck that attitude right out of you.”
I can get any girl I want at any time.” “False. You can’t get me.” “I haven’t tried.”
“I could fuck your brains out right now. Make you take back every word you said and have you begging for more by the end of it.” It was a warning, not seduction.
“You know what they say about men who talk a big game.”
“They’re overcompensating for the smallest packages.”
“Oh, Red. You’re about to find out just how untrue that is,” he said softly.
“You’re my personal hell, Red.” He gave my hair another sharp tug. “And God help me, I don’t want to fucking leave.”
it was our catharsis, a purge of everything dark and ugly that’d festered over the years. There was a certain liberation in not giving a fuck what the other person thought about you. We could be the worst, most untamed versions of ourselves, and in a world where everyone tried to fit everything into neat little boxes, it was as exhilarating as it was painful.
“Because you’re mine,” I said against her mouth. “Let another man touch you, Jules, and you’ll find out just how easily I can take a man’s life as I can save one.”
Because even though pain hurt like a motherfucker, it proved you were still alive, and it was only after it faded that you could finally heal.
