Page 32 of Pocketful of You

"I'm in pain," he slurred, nuzzling his face in my neck.

"Me too," I breathed, eyes rolling back in my head.

"Then let's make it stop." His hands moved to my thighs.

With my body crushed against the wall, I hooked my leg around his waist. "Are you saying that you wanna fuck away the pain, Sketch?"

Crushing his mouth against mine, he bit down on my lip so hard I was sure I could taste my own blood. "I'm saying I wanna fuck you out of my head." His tongue swiped out, lapping and suckling my cut. A pained snarl escaped him when he hoisted me up and confessed, "I wanna fuck you until these feelings fade."

"You can fuck me, but you can't shake me off." Aroused and awakened, I wrapped my legs around his hips, hooked my ankles together, and whispered, "I'm ingrained in you just as deeply you're ingrained in me."

Suddenly, the atmosphere around us changed. The anger dissipated from his limbs and the tension faded from his shoulders. "I still remember just the way you taste," he confessed against my lips. "How you feel when you sleep on my chest every night."

"Oh god –"

"It kills me," he confessed, thumb tracing my cheek. "Every day." A pained groan escaped his parted lips. "Seeing you with him makes me want to die."

"Sketch…" Exhaling shakily, I reached up to brush his hair off his face.

A deep hum came from his chest, like a lion purring in contentment. He leaned into my touch, lips moving to my wrist. "Mine." Nuzzling the inside of my wrist with his nose, he pressed his lips to the skin covering my erratic pulse and kept them there. "I'm so fucking in –"

"So, this is what needing fresh air looks like, huh?"

My eyes widened in horror and I tore my lips away from Sketch. "Presley!"

Sketch jerked away from me like he had been scalded and scrubbed a hand over his face. "No, no, no, no." Head bowed, he gripped the back of his neck with his hands and roared, "FUCK!"

"What are you doing in here, Pres?" I strangled out.

"You ran out of the dance so fast that Chris was worried about you," he replied coolly. "He's outside looking now. I told him I'd check in here." He arched a disapproving brow. "Good thing I did."

My heart seized with dread. "I’m so sorry."

"Presley," Sketch said, looking truly distraught. "I know what it looks like, man, but I had a lot to drink tonight and I didn’t…fuck! Please don’t –"

"Tell your brother that you were two seconds away from fucking his girl?" he offered in a tone laced with disgust. "Don’t worry, Sketch. Your secret's safe with me. I don’t have any intention on being the one to break my best friend's heart." He pushed his glasses up his nose. "But you should know that Chris deserves so much better than either one of you."

With that, he turned on his heels and quietly left.

"Fuck..." Sounding thoroughly defeated, Sketch dropped down on a nearby bench. Elbows resting on his knees, he dropped his head in his hands and just rocked back and forth quietly.

"Did you mean it?" I forced myself to ask. "All that you said?"

"I can't do this right now," he muttered, head still bent in shame. "If he finds out, he'll send – I can't do this."

"Did you mean it, Sketch?" I demanded, hurrying to his side. "Because I'll do it. Tell me that you meant what you said and I'll go out there and finish it with him."

"You can't," he groaned, twisting around like he was in physical pain.

"Why not?" I cried out. "I want to be withyou. I loveyou–"

"Well I can't be with you," he roared back, jerking to his feet. "So just quit it, Romi. Just quit fucking talking.Please!"

"Why not?" I screamed, shoving my hands against his chest. "Why can't we be together?"

"Because I can't, okay!" he roared, snatching my hands up and stepping around me. "Because I don’t want you like that anymore."

"Bullshit," I snarled, trembling violently. "If you don’t want me like that, then what the hell just happened between us in here?"

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