Chapter Ten
Redd
––––––––
What the hell is wrongwith me?
I can't do shit like that. . . It's wrong.
With heavy feet, I scuffed my heels over the laminate floor in the kitchen, raking my fingers through my hair. Pushing my hip against the counter, I gripped the edge in my hands, knuckles burning white as I squeezed the solid surface and closed my eyes.
Bijou had just gotten my blood plumping in more ways than I wanted to admit. Her loose shirt, thin and almost sheer, had transformed from rag into erotic fabric I wanted to tear clear off her small frame.
If she hadn't stepped back, I wasn't sure what I would have done.
Yes you do. You know exactly what would have happened.
My gut curled up on itself, cock still throbbing, aching and hard. It was horrible the thoughts that had gone through my head as I stroked her arm.
A tingle raced across my lips, my tongue pushed against the back of my teeth; I wanted to fucking kiss her. I wanted to taste her, I wanted to touch her, I wanted to feel every curve her body had to offer.
I could see myself grabbing her by the shoulders, bending her over my bed, and lifting up the back of her shirt to take what I wanted. My fingers itched to bunch her strawberry blond hair in my hands, and yank her head back to watch her moan as I plowed deep into her entrance.
The image was clear, my hard cock teasing her opening, stretching out her walls and forcing her body to crumble beneath my hands. I shouldn't have had those thoughts, they shouldn't have even cross my mind.
But I couldn't help it, it was embedded in my bones to want what isn't mine. It was a drive in my subconscious I had developed over the years to crave the wrongs and defy the laws of reason.
Knowing I couldn't or shouldn't do something, it made me only want it more.
I shouldn't have her, but I did.
I shouldn't want her, but I did.
I couldn't take her, but I wanted to so fucking badly.
Not her. She's not yours, and she's off limits.
I'd fuck her brain up even more if I crossed that line.
Jerking my shoulders, I shook my head. I had to get those thoughts out of my mind. She had been through hell, the last thing that was probably on her mind was fucking a man—especially right now.
A faint ache pinched my heart, doing its best to remind me that I was still human, that I knew right from wrong, and taking her, making her mine over and over again, it was not for my survival.
But I couldn't ignore the flame that ignited when her nipples went hard and goosebumps riddled her skin as she peered up at me with those big brown eyes. Her innocence was dimmed, replaced by a siren, quietly calling my name.
Stop it! Just fucking stop!
Throwing my hands to my forehead, I pushed on my temples in an attempt to get my control back. Because I was losing it, I was watching it dissolve into a pile of mush as this woman infiltrated my brain like a disease.
She was so beautiful behind the marks on her body. I had taken note of her bruises and the thick scars on her upper thighs. I had seen how two of the knuckles on her left hand were swelled, and the fingers were bent so she couldn't hold them straight.
But none of that stopped her from being beautiful.
Does she see that? Can she even see what she's doing to me?
Her tender skin could still blush, her eyes had lived a million years, but the youthfulness wasn't gone. Who she was, it was still buried behind the pain I could see written all over her face. The urge to drag it out of her, to force her demons into submission so she could see that she was more woman than anyone I had ever met, it latched onto my heart and squeezed.
Bijou was strong, with a hard shell and a spitfire of a soul. She was alive, she hadn't given up even though her life was stomped through the mud.