Chapter 19

nineteen

Wrenlee

I sequester myself to the library after class until late on Tuesday. Cash hadn’t been happy about my rejection of a ride home, but I’d insisted on staying behind. In the library, I wasn’t tempted by the low timbre of Cash’s voice to leave the safety of my bedroom, foregoing studying and bills just to listen to him form songs from the caverns of his dark soul, glimpsing through a window he keeps securely shuttered from the world into the deep of him.

I already feel too tightly tethered to my fake boyfriend, so it’s time I start putting some space between us, cutting some strings.

I’m about to pack up when a pretty woman slides into a chair across from me. It’s not unusual to sit with someone at a table in the library, but it is unusual when there are so many others open for use that aren’t occupied at all. It’s no matter, really. I’m just leaving anyway.

“I love that book.” She points a gel tipped nail to the new fantasy romance I’d treated myself to before shoving her hand into her bag and pulling out her copy of the same book. “O.M.G. I’m not finished yet, but when I saw you had it, I had to come talk books. How far are you?”

I can’t help my grin, because I love talking books. Before I’d moved to New York, me and the girlfriends I’d had had talked books for hours. We’d fought over who was reading the best book and why. It had been fun, and I’d missed it dearly. “Not far. I just started, actually.”

I wish I had more to gush with her about.

“Okay, I won’t drop any spoilers. But just so you know, it’s hot. Really hot.”

“I’ve seen a few booktok’s about it,” I admit, pressing thumb and finger together. “I’m just a tad excited.”

She rolls her eyes back in her head. “I’m a sucker for a dangerous man.”

My belly flutters at the thought of the dangerous man I have at home. Then I remind myself that he’s not mine. What we have isn’t real, even though he’s damn good at pretending like it is. I understand why he wants us to feel real and look real all the time, so that we don’t slip up when we’re in the presence of others. But lines are starting to blur, and my inexperienced heart doesn’t know where his boundaries rest. I feel like I’m walking in a field set with trip lines. One wrong move and the whole thing implodes.

Hell, I don’t even know my own boundaries, as evidenced by the fact I let him push his fingers inside my body on the first night we spent together.

Thank goodness, I’ve kept my head and not let anything like that happen since. Another repeat of that would be catastrophic.

Even the thought has my skin flushing hotly.

“Oh my,” the girl leans into the table. Interest sparking in her eyes. “Do you have a dangerous man of your own?”

I start to shake my head but stop. She’s a stranger. She doesn’t know I’m with Cash, and yet I feel myself saying, “I think I might.”

Something not quite nice flashes in her eyes before it’s gone. I’m not entirely sure it was ever there as she giggles. “Bitch. I’m jealous.”

I laugh. “I think they’re easier to handle between the pages of a book.” I tap my fingers on the face of my book. “In real life, it’s a whole other ball game.”

“True. Still, I like a little danger. Live for the thrill, ya know?”

I don’t know, but I agree, “Sure.”

“I’m Alice. What’s your name?”

“Wrenlee.”

“So pretty and unusual.” She studies me. “I never would have guessed.”

“Guessed what?”

She waves a hand. “Nothing. It’s late and I’m starving. Wanna join me for a bite?”

Just then, my phone pings. I open my text stream with Cash, and dammit, there’s another flutter.

CASH

I’m outside.

Where?

The Library. Let’s go, Kitten.

I ignore him, sliding phone and books into my bag as I explain, “I can’t. My—um—boyfriend is actually waiting outside to drive me home.”

“Really?” Her tone is pure disbelief.

I frown. “Yeah. He’s kind of—well, he’s protective.”

“Huh.” Her scowl slides so easily into a bright smile, I almost miss it. If it weren’t for that squeeze in my belly, that thing that warns of danger and unease, I would dismiss it. But I don’t. Not entirely. “Maybe next time, then?”

“Sure,” I agree easily, doubting a next time will ever occur anyway. It’s as I’m lifting my bag onto my shoulder, about to walk away that she stops me.

“Sorry if I seem weird about the boyfriend thing. I just broke up with my long-time guy. He meant the world to me, but—” She shrugs, and I feel bad for her when I see the raw hurt. The shimmer in her eyes. “Oh well, I guess.”

“Why don’t you try talking to him? Tell him how you feel?”

Her eyes flash with bitterness. “He won’t listen. Not yet anyway.”

“Oh.” I wince. “I’m sorry.”

“He’s with someone else.” She rolls her eyes. “But she’s not the one for him.”

I give her a pitying nod. “That sucks.”

“It’s only a matter of time before she’s gone, and he comes back to me.”

“It was nice to meet you, Alice,” I say distractedly as my phone chimes in my bag. “But my guy’s likely to come in here searching for me if I don’t get out there.” I give her a wave. “Bye.”

I make a turkey sandwich for me, another for Cash, before dropping a handful of chips on the side of our plates. “Dinner is served,” I announce cheekily as I slide his plate across the island, coming around to sit next to him.

“Why do you study in the library?”

“Less distraction.” I take a bite and moan. I’d been hungry. Starving.

Cash’s voice rumbles low. “I distract you.”

“Uh, yeah.”

“How so?”

I shrug. “You just do. I get more done at the library. Besides, I make friends there.”

“You do?” His brow raises.

“Yeah, tonight some girl saw the book I’m reading, and she’s reading it too so she joined me. I think she wanted to gush over the MMC, but I just started it, so I haven’t even met him yet.”

“Some girl just sat beside you because you’re reading the same book?”

“Mmhmm.”

“What’s an MMC?”

“Male main character.” I give him the ‘how don’t you know that’ scowl. “Don’t you read?”

“No.”

“You should. It’s fun.”

“Girls gush over fake dudes in books?”

“Totally.” I loose a happy little moan. “You have no idea. Guys in books are delicious.”

His eyes drop to my mouth when I say that, and my belly squeezes. He didn’t take that the way I meant it. I can see it from his expression.

“You know much about that?” he asks bizarrely.

“About what?”

“About the way men taste?”

I blink, stunned. “Well,” I stammer. “I know how you taste.”

A strangled cough rises from the deep of his throat, and he knocks a fist into his chest. “No, Kitten, you don’t.”

“You taste like whiskey and sin and cinnamon hearts.”

The air between us crackles as he looks at me, absorbing the words I never meant to say. I’m so warm, so overheated, I feel like I might combust. Like at any moment, I’ll shatter into a million splinters burned to dust under the heat of him.

His dark eyes drop to the few chips remaining on my plate, then they lift back up to my mouth, up again to my eyes. His voice is husky and thick, his hands fisted so tightly his knuckles are white. “I’ve gotta run out quick. I’ll be back in an hour.”

“Oh.” I jolt. I’m surprised, but I nod. “Sure. I was planning to have a bath anyway.”

He makes a noise. It’s a cross between a groan of pain and a growl of frustration. But he doesn’t speak as he lifts his keys and disappears, slamming the door behind him.

Cash returns two hours later. I’ve had a bath, rubbed vanilla body butter over every inch of my skin before dabbing the lavender oil behind my ears and on my inner wrists. I’m relaxed, and at peace, reading page after page of my book as I sip the London fog tea I’d made the old-school way with a jar and lid to froth the milk, because trying to figure out Cash’s latte machine was beyond me. I’m curled into the corner of his couch, sipping the last of my tea when I hear the door. Then I hear his big black biker boots hitting the floor. Then he’s standing in the living room before me.

His eyes roam over me, lingering on my still damp hair. “See you had that bath.”

“It was lovely.” I close my book. “It’s been forever since I’ve had one.”

He nods to the book. “You meet the guy yet?”

I nod. “Yep.”

“You gonna gush over him?”

“Right now, he’s a bit of a jerk. So, I’m definitely going to gush over him.”

A single brow rises. “You like jerks?”

“In books, they’re hard to resist. In real life, no.” I tap my fingers against the face of the book. “I get enough real life every day, though. I don’t want to read something realistic. I want to read something that makes me burn, makes me feel unpleasant, curious, a little ticked off, even.” My face scrunches as I think. “Aroused? I want to feel all the crazy things from my books that I’d never actually want to experience in real life. That’s what makes books so addictive. We get to safely experience every fantasy, ugly or not, within the protection of a couple hundred pages.”

He comes closer, but he doesn’t lower to the couch next to me as his eyes search me like he’s trying to read between the lines I’ve presented him. “I’ve never met anyone like you.”

“There’s lots of people like me.”

“There aren’t.” He shoves big hands into his pockets.

“You just hang with a narrow crowd. Girls like me are a dime a dozen. Just walk into a bookstore.”

He chuckles, lifting a hand to rub the scruff along his jaw. “I’ve got a gig tomorrow. Know you got class Thursday, but if you can manage it, I’d like you there.”

Rising from the couch, because it’s late and I need to get to bed, I promise, “I’ll be there.” Tossing the throw over the back of the couch, I clutch my book to my chest. “I should probably get to bed, though. It’s late and tomorrow comes early.”

Cash doesn’t respond as he watches me walk from the living room. I’m in the hall when I hear the deep pitch of his voice as it connects with every inch of my skin. “Where’s my goodnight kiss, Kitten?”

Heart stammering in my chest, I turn to see he’s already moving toward me. Every part of him swaggers with the confidence of a man who knows he’s getting what he wants, and even though there’s a part of me that wants to put him in his place, I can’t, because I want it just as much.

I meet him halfway, tipping my head back to look up at him. The man is so much taller than me, he dwarfs me. In the beginning, it made me feel small and maybe a little uneasy. Like prey. Now, it makes me feel safe, a little consumed, and cherished. The way his body moves around mine when we’re close but not touching makes me think of a shield. His head tips forward, shoulders in, body firm. His stance promises that if anyone or anything dares to try and hurt me, he’ll deflect any blow. His body is the armour that shields mine from harm. The dark inferno of his eyes vow that, to this man, I’m the only thing that matters on this whole globe.

None of it is true. It can’t be. Yet, I can’t help but feel it all the same.

This man overwhelms me.

It won’t be long before he devours me, too.

His eyes chase the tip of my tongue as I wet my lips, nervous. I don’t know why I’m nervous. He’s kissed me countless times. So many, in fact, that if I were blindfolded, and kissed by a thousand men, I’d be able to pick him out from the mass with confidence—the taste of him is a brand seared into my soul.

A shudder rolls through my body, and I grip my book tighter against my chest. As though it’s the thing that breaks him, Cash takes that moment to lift his big hand to the side of my face, spearing his fingers into my hair the way he does. Then he’s dropping his mouth to mine.

The reaction I have to this man is purely instinctual. He touches me and my thoughts begin to fizzle. He kisses me and my very practical bubble of rationality simply pops. Every part of me warms, and yet I shiver when his free hand moves to fist the material of my beer t-shirt at the small of my back, forcing my body into the unforgiving wall of his. The rough material of his jean covered leg as it pushes between my naked legs is oddly arousing, and I clutch my book tighter, knuckles surely white. Cash kisses me like he always kisses me, as though he’s a dark knight determined to invade and conquer. He forces his tongue into my mouth, stroking, exploring and tasting me. He dominates me with tiny nips and deep, soul-grazing sweeps of his tongue. We’re standing in a brightly lit hallway, two people separated by clothes and bound by rules, and yet I get the sense that this man wants little more than to climb inside my body and consume me from the inside out.

The thought of him inside me has a small whimper climbing from the deep of me, another shudder—this one violent—crashing through my body with the force of a deep-sea wave set on sinking a ship. He devours the sound, swallowing it like he wants to keep it there forever. His lips move over mine faster, insistent now. His fist in the back of my shirt spears open and he hauls me up against him, driving me into the wall. I’m so caught off guard by the force of him, the power he holds over me and the strength he uses to dominate, I drop my book. It connects with the floor with a loud thud, but it does nothing to jolt either of us from this haze of lust we’re blindly navigating. I feel as though he’s trying to kiss another moan from the deep of me. He’s a shark swimming dark waters, scenting blood. He’s crazed in his single-minded search for more. A deeper taste. A complete meal.

Total devastation.

Annihilation.

This man is going to wreck me. He’s going to take everything if I’m not careful, and yet, my mind and body can’t seem to agree on action to take, so I take none at all.

Fire wicks at my core when Cash grinds into me, his hard arousal not to be denied by innocence as he drags it against my core. Heat rushes through my body to pool at my center, spilling into my panties—the thin barrier that stands between our bodies taking what we both want is soaked through, I just know it.

Embarrassment and hesitation burn my flesh as his teeth sink into my bottom lip, and I give him that moan he’s worked so hard for, unable to deny the intensity of my body’s reaction to him. I’m surrounded by whiskey and sin and cinnamon hearts, on fire.

My body wants him so desperately in this moment, my emptiness is an acute, sharp pain. I’ve never felt desire quite like this. Insistent and demanding and unrelenting.

Oh, my goodness, I can’t—but I want.

He grinds against me again, the slick in my panties helping to open me to the decadent assault of his rough jeans as it slides against my swollen clit. Something akin to electricity jolts through my body and I jerk in his arms, sucking in air that tastes of him.

It scorches my lungs—blackens my soul.

This isn’t real, it’s just a deal.

“Cash.”

“Feel me, Wrenlee.” God, he’s going to cut down every wall with my name on his tongue.

My head rolls back as he rolls his hips into mine again, tipping forward to nip my collar bone before he leans back to watch me, flushed and aching and unraveling in his arms.

“Let me touch you.” He’s already moving his hand between us, fingers working to bunch the material of my beer t-shirt. “Want you to come for me.”

My breath hitches, because he doesn’t wait for verbal permission as he dips his big thumb into my panties, sliding the pad straight to the bundle of nerves that exist to make me crazy for this man. I shudder, bite down a moan that threatens to claw its way free and tighten my legs around his waist as he strokes me, pace quickening until I’m flushed with undeniable arousal.

“So wet,” he murmurs, and I let my head roll back as I answer him with a moan that finally breaks free. “Soft.” I’m not even sure he actually spoke the word, it’s so quiet.

He starts to slide his hand down deeper into my panties, but I catch his wrist. My head tips forward and my eyes connect with his for the first time since he dipped his hand into my panties. “Not inside me. I—it’s too much.”

The dark in his eyes darkens to something far more dangerous than a predator in the night, because although he concedes with a tight nod, I get the sense that he wants inside more than he wants his next breath. I also know from my time with Cash that he’s a man who always, always takes what he wants. Eventually.

His thumb moves back to my clit, and he rolls expertly. His pace quickens and he watches me watch him, eyes spearing deep into mine, surely seeing all the parts of my soul that no man has ever seen before, just as he’s seen my body.

When I can take no more, my eyes flutter closed. Teeth press into my lip as I fight the roll of pleasure that threatens to shatter all the pieces of me into a mess around him.

His other hand lifts to my face, pulling my lip from my teeth with his thumb as he commands roughly, “Eyes, Kitten. I want to see your eyes when you come for me.”

My eyes fly open, because oh, my God, I’m close.

I’m teetering on the brink of something massive, earth-shattering, soul-destroying. His thumb quickens against me, and the pressure is there, intense, hot, and hard as it crashes through me in rolling wave after rolling wave until I’m weak in his arms.

Breaths come in fast and hard, harsh as I blink up at him. Slowly, he pulls his hand from my panties, and I watch in pure shock as he lifts his thumb to his mouth and sucks it clean, eyes flaring.

I swear, my breath stalls in my lungs. My heart skips a whole beat.

Did he just—oh, my word.

I have no words.

As though he can’t help himself, he leans in and kisses me hard and hot and deep one final time before he lowers me on shaky feet to the floor. I feel weak and unsteady, but I gather myself enough to bend and retrieve my fallen book before moving on wobbly knees to my bedroom door.

When I’m there, Cash’s voice stops me. It’s rough and husky and thick with desire. “You taste like vanilla cream.”

The words nearly make me orgasm a second time on the spot. Still, I chance a peek at him as I slip inside my room. The man is stone-cold serious and hot as the devil himself standing in the center of the burning pit.

It won’t be long before he pulls me into the deep with him.

I close the door between us and fall against it, sinking to the floor in a puddle of feminine emotional overload. I’m in trouble.