Home > Thief (Love Me with Lies #3)(11)

Thief (Love Me with Lies #3)(11)
Author: Tarryn Fisher

My arms tightened around her. I was afraid the wind, the water … life would take her away from me. I didn’t want her to blow away.

“When she was in the hospital toward the end, she was in a lot of pain, but all she did was worry about me,” she paused, laughed a little. “She had no hair. Her head looked like a shiny egg and it was always cold. I tried to knit her a hat, but it was terrible, full of holes, but of course she wore it anyway.”

I could hear her tears. My heart was aching like she had it between her fist.

“She was always asking me, ‘Are you hungry? Are you tired? Are you sad?’” Her voice cracked. I ran my hand up her back, trying to comfort her, knowing I couldn’t.

“I would have switched places with her.”

Her sob ripped me open, spilled everything out. I sat us both up and held her in my lap as she cried.

Her pain was so jagged. You couldn’t touch her without it slicing through you too. I wanted to fold myself around her and absorb the rest of the blows life would deliver.

That was the exact moment my heart threaded with hers. It was as if someone reached down with a sewing needle and stitched my soul to hers. How could one woman be so sharp and so vulnerable at the same time? Whatever would happen to her would happen to me. Whatever pain she would feel, I would feel it too. I wanted it — that was the surprising part. Selfish, self-centered Caleb Drake loved a girl so much he could already feel himself changing to accommodate her needs.

I fell.

Hard.

For the rest of this life and probably the next.

I wanted her — every last inch of her stubborn, combative, catty heart.

A few months after that, I told her I loved her for the first time. I’d loved her for a while, but I knew she wasn’t ready to hear it. The minute the words were out of my mouth, she looked like she wanted to stuff them back in. Her nostrils started flaring and her skin flushed. She couldn’t say it back. I was disappointed, but not surprised. I knew she loved me, but I wanted to hear it. The more she rejected me, the more aggressively I fought to tear down her walls. I pushed too far sometimes … like the camping trip. I tried to prove to her that she wasn’t as autonomous as she thought. I wanted to show her that it was okay to be vulnerable and to want me. For someone like Olivia, sex was directly tied to her emotions. She tried to pretend that sex wasn’t important to her — that she could have a healthy relationship without it. But, her body was her playing card. The longer she held out with sex, the longer she held onto her power.

When I walked into that tent, I was determined to strip her of her power.

“You are master of your own body, yes?”

She jutted her chin defiantly.

“Yes.”

“Then you won’t have a problem controlling it.”

I could see the uncertainty in her eyes as I moved toward her. If she wanted to play games, I was going to play harder. She was out of her league. For the last year, I’d had to fight away every desire, every need I had. All I wanted was three words. Three words she wouldn’t give me, and now she was going to pay.

She tried to walk away, but I grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her back.

The restraint I’d held back for a year sat precariously on the edge of a cliff. I let it dangle there for a minute before I shoved it off and kissed her. I kissed her like I would have kissed an experienced girl. I kissed her like I kissed her the first time, in the pool — before I knew she was so broken. She responded better than I thought. It was almost as if she’d been waiting for me to kiss her like that. She tried pushing me away a couple of times, but it was halfhearted. And even then, she never stopped kissing me. Her mind was at war with itself. I decided to give her a little help. Ripping away from her, I grabbed her flimsy t-shirt and ripped it off, neck to seam. It tore like paper. Her mouth dropped open, as I pulled the remaining fabric from her arms and tossed it aside. I pulled her toward me again and kissed her as my fingers found the clasp on her bra and flicked it off. She was against me now, skin to skin. I yanked her pants down and she keened into my mouth like it was the best and worst thing I’d ever done.

She was panting into my mouth — God I was so turned on. I slowed down a little. I wanted to take my time kissing all the places I’d always wanted to and had never been allowed — the space between her br**sts, the insides of her thighs, the commas on her lower back.

She had a sweet spot right above her collarbone where her neck dipped. I listened to her intake of breath in satisfaction and worked my way down. I’d just reached her perfect ni**les when she leaned into me like her lust was too heavy and she couldn’t stand. I put her on the ground and lowered myself on top of her. I was sucking on her ni**les and letting my hand slide up the inside of her thigh. She was wearing black lace panties; they stood out against her creamy skin. My hand stopped when it reached the junction of her thighs. I wanted her to want it. I let my thumb brush across the lace and she bucked underneath me. I wondered if anyone else had ever touched her there. I was having a hard time controlling myself. I breathed into her hair. It smelled like fresh laundry.

“Are you still in control?”

She nodded. I could feel her shaking and I wanted to call bullshit.

“Stop me,” I said. “If you’re in control, then stop me.”

I pulled off the sweatpants that were still lingering around her ankles. She looked up at me with glassy eyes, like stopping me was the last thing she wanted to do.

That’s when I snapped out of it. My game was turning toxic. I breathed in hard through my nose. I could take her now. She’d let me. But, that wouldn’t be fair. I was manipulating her. She’d be angry with me after — she’d fold in on herself and I’d lose her. I just needed her to acknowledge me.

   
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