Page 68 of Toxic B!tch
I suck in a breath, feeling a cold chill creeping down my spine, but I can't stop myself. "I would never act that way toward you. I love you. I want you. Only you," I say, stomping my foot, my voice pleading for him to hear it. Tobelieveit.
He doesn’t move, doesn’t soften. His eyes narrow. "And I still love you," he says, his voice rough. "And I think that makes me fucked up, because you could lay a hundred bodies at my feet, and I’d still want to worship at your fucking altar."
I stare at him, my heart hammering in my chest. "You're not fucked up," I whisper, my voice barely there. "I just… I don’t need you to change who you are. I just need you to be here. Be with me. Like we were."
He shakes his head, looking down at the ground like he's wrestling with something too dark to share. "That's not easy, baby."
My pulse spikes with frustration, with a cold, creeping fear. "Why not?" I demand, my voice growing louder. "Why can't it just be simple? Why does it have to be so fucking complicated?"
"Because," he growls, his eyes snapping back to mine, raw and intense. "I’m not letting you go on any of these jobs alone. I plan on coming with you to make sure you're safe. And I don’t mean from your targets. I mean to make sure you don’t lose yourself to this. You don’t take more from the world than you put back in. That you leave no trace of who did it." He steps toward me, the heat of his body filling the space between us. "I can’t live without you, baby. You're mine. Every unhinged little fucking piece."
His words hit me like a freight train, crashing into the walls I’ve been building around myself. My breath catches in my throat. I can't hold back the tear that slips down my cheek, and I cross the room in a blur, too quick for him to stop me.
I leap into his arms, wrapping my legs around his waist, pulling him to me as if I might collapse if I don’t. His hands grab my ass, pulling me against him, and I kiss him hard, so fucking hard, as if this moment is the only thing that matters. Our tongues meet, desperate and wild, tasting each other like it’s our last day on earth. Every ounce of rage, pain, and fear gets lost in the kiss, our bodies pressing together with an urgency that leaves no room for doubt.
This is it. This is us.
And I’ll fuckingownit.
I can feel him, his hardening length pressing into me as our kiss deepens, as if he's staking his claim, demanding a response from my very soul. The heat between us is suffocating, all-consuming. My body aches for him, the tension in my veins only growing stronger the longer we stay like this.
I pull away, gasping for air, our lips swollen from the intensity. “Take me to our room,” I breathe, my voice rough and desperate, almost a plea.
He doesn’t hesitate, his eyes dark with desire. “Yes, ma’am,” he murmurs, his lips curling into a wicked smile, holding me tightly against him. His hands grip my thighs, his muscles flexing as he carries me toward the bedroom.
My heart races, the rapid beat matching the rush of adrenaline coursing through me. I bury my face in his neck, inhaling the familiar scent of him—warm, intoxicating, and all mine. This is the only thing that feels real right now.
Once inside, he sets me down gently on my feet, his hands moving to the bottom of my shirt before I can even blink. The urgency in his touch is matched only by the desperation in my chest. He doesn’t waste a moment, kissing down my neck, his lips brushing against my skin with the perfect mix of tenderness and fire. His mouth finds the sensitive spot behind my ear, and I gasp, my fingers digging into his hair as he leaves soft, searing kisses in his wake.
His hands skim over my skin, undoing my clothes with practiced ease, each movement deliberate yet filled with an urgency that matches my own. I shudder under his touch, the way he knows exactly how to make me feel like I’m the only thing in his world.
The sound of his breath, the way he hums against my skin, drives me wild. I close my eyes, giving myself over to the moment, to him, to us. There’s no turning back now, no holding back from what we both want.
This is where we belong. Together.
“You have too many clothes on,” I murmur, my voice rough with desire.
A half-smile tugs at the corner of his lips, but his gaze never wavers from mine. Slowly, I reach up and begin to unbutton his black and gray plaid shirt, my fingers trembling just enough to make the task feel like an eternity. I move deliberately, savoring every second, letting the tension build between us. Each button I undo feels like a promise, each inch of skin I expose pulling us closer to the inevitable.
The shirt slides off his broad shoulders, revealing the soft curve of his chest, the hint of muscle beneath a layer of warmth. My fingertips graze his skin as I move to his jeans. My breath catches in my throat as I slide the zipper down, each movement pulling us deeper into the tension that simmers between us.
His jeans drop to the floor, leaving him in nothing but his boxer briefs. The fabric clings to his hips, outlining the curve of his stomach, a little extra softness around the middle, but it only makes him more real, more raw, more intoxicating. I let my eyes trace the lines of him—so far from perfect, and yet so perfectly mine.
I step back, my heart pounding, every part of me burning with the anticipation of what’s to come.
His gaze locks onto mine, and there’s no room for self-consciousness. He hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his briefs, pushing them down, letting them fall away. Heat rushes through me as he stands before me, completely bare, completely mine.
His hands move up my thighs, sending shivers through me as he brushes against my skin. He leans in, kissing me deeply, his lips moving hungrily over mine.
I wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him even closer as the heat between us intensifies. We stumble toward the bed, our bodies pressed together as we fall onto the sheets.
He hovers above me, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he looks down at me with dark eyes filled with need. I reach up and pull him in for another kiss, my tongue tangling with his.
His fingers find the clasp of my bra, and with a swift motion, he unhooks it. I shift beneath him, lifting slightly as he slides the straps down my arms. The fabric catches for a moment before I slip my arms free, letting it fall away.
I arch up to meet him, reveling in the feel of his warm skin against mine.
His hands roam freely over my body as he kisses his way down from my lips to my neck, then lower still. I moan softly as he finds all the right spots—my collarbone, the sensitive curve of my breasts—and sucks gently on each one.
