Page 58 of Insatiable Hunger

His eyes narrow. “Do not pretend to know anything about our marriage.”

“Uh, I don’t have to pretend,” I spit out. “I saw first fucking hand when you fucked me into the shower wall last night.”

“I didn’t see you complaining about it or having a fucking conscience then.”

“You’re un-fucking-believable.” I huff out a laugh, raising off the couch. “I’m out of here.”

Before I’m even able to round the corner that leads to the door out of the room, he’s flying off the couch and grabbing hold of my arm, spinning me around and shoving me into the wallhard. The wind’s knocked out of me as I stare up at him with wide eyes.

“You’re not going anywhere,” he spits out through gritted teeth. His accent is thicker. More pronounced. Something I notice that happens when he gets angry.

“You have lost your fucking mind.” I try to shove him away, but it’s no use. He’s like three times the size of me easily. “Let me fucking go!”

“It’s getting pretty fucking old having you pretend this is one sided, Elias. Like you don’t watch me as much as I watch you. Like you don’t think about that night we met just as much as I do.” His scent envelopes me. I can’t breathe. A common occurrence around him. “And don’t even pretend you don’t. It’s written all over your goddamn face, and you’ve admitted as much to me before. Quit fucking lying.”

“That doesn’t change the facts, Zeke.” My voice cracks, and I hate myself for it.

“Look me in my eyes and tell me that night we met wasn’t life altering for you.”

“What?” I whisper.

“Tell me—truthfully—that the night we met didn’t change something inside of you. Tell me and I’ll leave you alone. Let it go.”

The way his black eyes drink me in as he waits for my answer fractures something inside of me, because I can’t. I can’t tell him that because it would be a lie even I’m not able to say. Because the truth is, that night is on my mind more often than it’s not.

Nothing and nobody have compared to that night. Except last night. And hearing Zeke admit that… stone cold sober this time… it’s too much. Everything feels too much, like I can’t breathe or think or move. I’m frozen in place, the feelings in me overwhelming.

It’s too much.

“Elias…” he warns me.

“I can’t,” I whisper, unable to look him in the eye.

Zeke presses his body against mine, a shiver running down my spine at the weight of him. My head drops back onto the wall with athudas my eyes drift shut. It’s too much, having him this close to me. I need to be stronger. Something about him turns me into putty, and it’s wrong. It’s dangerous.

“Why fight what you really want, Elias?” The tenor of his voice is dark and wicked. It washes over me like a vicious tidal wave; one I can’t fight against. One of his hands frames my face, the touch making me melt. “Look at me,” he rasps.

The moment my eyes open, connecting with his, I regret it. There’s no turning back. Not when he looks at me this way. I’m watching this from above, completely out of body. His lips brush against mine faintly. Never quite pressing down. Teasing.

My body yearns for him like it’s never craved anything else before. I whimper against his lips, and if I wasn’t so instantly gone by his proximity, I’d probably feel embarrassed.

“Does my little slut want me to kiss him?” he asks against my mouth.

Instead of answering, I lean my head forward, sealing my lips to his. Taking what I want instead of begging for it. His hand comes to the back of my head, fisting the hair at my nape as he thrusts his tongue inside, tangling with mine and stealing my breath.

All the blood in my body diverts south, my cock filling up ridiculously fast and throbbing behind my sleep pants.I wonder if he’s already hard too.Reaching down, he grabs me by the backs of the thighs, hoisting me up into his arms and shoving me harder into the wall, exactly like he did last night in the shower. My arms fly around his neck as I open wider, letting him deepen our kiss.

I don’t know how long we stand there like that, making out like teenagers. A loud crashing sound startles us, and we rip our mouths apart as Zeke sets me down.

“What the fuck was that?” I ask, my voice hushed.

Instead of answering me, he walks down the hall, pulling the door open. After I tuck my erection into my waistband, I follow behind him, my heart thrashing behind my ribs. It’s so late, and as far as I knew, everyone was asleep.

We tip-toe into the kitchen, and I swear to God, my blood turns to ice as I take in the sight before me—my mom shuffling around the kitchen, grabbing a broom. She spots us almost immediately.

“Oh, hi, Zeke.” She laughs awkwardly. “Sorry. I came down to get something to drink, and the glass slipped out of my hand and broke everywhere.” As if just noticing I’m beside him, her eyes jump from Zeke to me. “Elias. Hi, honey. What are you doing down here?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” I mutter, the blood roaring in my ears.

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