Never Moving On (Never U, #1)

by C.R. Lee

One thing I forgot to mention, on top of being a gorgeous football player, Jacob is also a talented artist, and it bugs the ever-living crap out of Emma that he hasn’t offered to draw her—not once.

“Look,” Ryan says. “If you see her as a sister—fine, cool. I don’t believe you, but whatever. But I promise you, that girl does not see you as a brother.” “And you know this because?” I pose the question to Ryan, but it’s Malcolm who replies. “Because we have eyes. You’d have to be blind not to see it. That girl looks at you like the sun shines out your ass.”

“Yes, she is,” the guys say in unison, which is just goddamned creepy. Of course, they think it’s funny as hell and start cracking up and fist-bumping across the table.

But she’s not just any girl. She’s Stella. The one constant in my life since I was ten. She belongs with me, belongs to me. And if that makes me a domineering bastard, so be it. I don’t care. Because I belong to her too.

He shrugs. “Sorry, not sorry. You’re an idiot for not seeing it sooner.”

By the death glare Dean’s giving me, I’m guessing he’s not too happy about it. So, I’ll go with good.

“I was jealous. Alright.” She turns her head away, refusing to look at me, but I continue anyway because if she leaves now, I’m afraid I’ll never get her back. “You looked so beautiful, and he was touching you like… like you were his to touch, and I was so insanely jealous, I wanted to rip his goddammed arms off. Is that what you want to hear?”

“Do I want to hear that you were jealous? After pining over you for ten years, watching you fuck every pretty girl in sight and wondering,” she takes a ragged breath, “wondering, what’s so wrong with me?” she says, hand pounding her chest. “Why don’t you see me? Now, someone else is interested in me, thinks I’m worth something, and I’m suddenly desirable.”

She slams both hands into me and I stumble back. “You fucked Emma, and I had to l...

Every fucking night I cried myself to sleep because I wasn’t pretty enough.” She shoves me again. “Because I would never be good enough for you.” And ...

But I don’t let her go. I push her against the wall and crush my lips into hers.

“What do you want, Stella?” he asks, breath hot against my ear, his voice taunting even as his fingers continue their torturous assault. “Tell me.” “I want to come,” I beg. “Please.” “I like it when you beg,” he says, pressing two fingers into me—filling me up.

Something in me snaps, and I blurt out, “You tell me, Taylor. How does it feel to know I was the one fucking her after your date on Friday?”

“Something to remember, my friend. It doesn’t matter how big or strong a person is; everybody’s afraid of crazy.”

“I don’t want to fight anymore,” she says, her voice a raspy whisper. “I just want to be with you.”

“Jacob,” I say between kisses. He pauses to look at me. “I don’t want sweet.” A grin spreads across his beautiful face. “Thank, fuck.” He wraps an arm under my leg, tugs me closer.

“It’s been handled.” “No good will come from you going after him.” “Promise me you won’t go after him.”

“I think a full body cavity search may be in order.”

He wraps a hand around my hair, tugging my head back and riding me like a fucking animal. I love it. I want him to use me, own me.

Jacob laughs and shakes his left hand. “Gotta go with getting laid, bro. Sorry.” Malcolm waves us off muttering something about “goddamn couples.”

“Look at me.” Ana takes my face in her hands and lifts my head, forcing me to meet her eyes. “She has loved you her entire life, Jacob. I saw it. Mom saw it. The only person who didn’t see it was you. She loved you when you were a snot-nosed kid with a giant chip on his shoulder. When you were a cocky womanizer in high school. She didn’t even stop loving you when you played pranks on her that would have had most girls running—this one included. And you think she’d stop now because it’s inconvenient?” Well shit, when she says it like that…

I bet Jacob could have made something special for her,

Everything makes me think of him: the shitty patch job he did on my wall, the couch where we sat to watch movies, the park that I never even went to with him but still reminded me of his landscape sketches. It’s enough to drive me nuts.

Am I being overly aggressive here? Perhaps. Am I overreacting? Probably. Do I give a shit? Absolutely not!

“Hey,” I shout. Ryan’s gaze snaps back to me. “Why?” I ask again. Ryan’s shoulders slump in defeat. “He wanted to talk to you and was afraid you’d avoid him if you knew he was coming.”