Page 31 of Shattered Dreams
Kieron laughs then steps closer, his gaze sweeping over me.
“Whatever you want, Ava, it won’t hurt me unless you lie to me.”
“I’m not in love with you,” I say, hating how harsh it sounds. “But you’re…” My voice trails off as he sighs, tilting my head so he can drop a light kiss to my lips.
Fuckable?
“I’m right here, not judging you. I know you’re not in love with me, Ava, and I’m still standing here, unable to take my fucking eyes away from how beautiful you are.”
I’m fucked.
We spendthe rest of the afternoon wandering through town, and for once, I don't feel like a woman losing her mind.
There's a bookshop with creaky floors and handwritten notes tucked inside covers. He buys me a book with pressed lavender between pages, his fingers lingering on mine as he hands it over. At the market, powdered sugar from a doughnut clings to my chin, and before I can wipe it away, his thumb brushes across my lip, his eyes darkening. We watch water spill down the old mill dam, sitting close enough that our thighs touch.
It’s nice.
Later, I find a message from Amanda.
Hey! We're happy to keep Poppy overnight if you want. She's already in her pajamas and excited for movie night.
I show it to Kieron. Our eyes lock, the implication hanging between us.
"It’s your call," he responds, voice low.
Ishouldgo back. I should be responsible. I should?—
Fuck what I should do. Roman didn’t do what he should’ve done, did he?
"Take me to your hotel.” My voice is husky, breathy even. My heart races as Kieron lifts a brow, his eyes locking onto mine.
I don’t care.
Why shouldn't I let myself enjoy another man with reckless abandon?
The elevator ride is silent,tense with everything unsaid. His room key fumbles in his hand. When the door closes behind us, we stand there, the space between us electric.
"Ava—"
"Don't talk." I close the distance between us, pressing my mouth to his. “I just want you to fuck me and make me forget.”
It's like striking a match to gasoline. His hands are suddenly everywhere—in my hair, gripping my hips, sliding under my shirt. I push him backward until his legs hit the bed. We tumble onto it, a tangle of limbs and desperate touches.
"Fuck," he breathes as I straddle him, yanking my shirt over my head. His hands slide up my bare skin, eyes drinking me in like he's starving.
There's nothing gentle about it. He rips my bra from my body. His shirt tears as I pull it off him. His mouth closes around my nipple, and I cry out, grinding against him.
His jeans are next, both of us fumbling with his belt. I slide my hand inside, feeling him hard against my palm, and he groans into my neck.
"Wait," he gasps. "Need a?—"
I shake my head, already shoving down my pants. "Just touch me. Please."
He flips us over, his body covering mine, mouth trailing down my stomach. When his tongue slides between my legs, my back arches off the bed. He holds my hips down, devouring me like a man possessed, and I come apart under his mouth, my cry echoing off the walls.
Before I can recover, he's reaching for his wallet, tearing open a condom packet with his teeth. I pull him back to me, desperate to feel something, anything besides the hollowness that's been eating me alive.
When he pushes inside me, we both freeze, the sensation overwhelming. Then he starts to move, and nothing else matters. Just this—his body against mine, inside mine, his breath hot on my skin.
