Page 71 of You Were Always Mine
“I’m not your brother.” The words land like a match dropped into gasoline, slow and deadly. His fingers slip lower, curling around my hip, pulling me into him until I can feel the sharp line of his hard cock pressed against my stomach. “I can’t be.”
“Kai—”
“Not when I want this,” he cuts me off, voice breaking into a growl. His hand drags up my side, grazing the swell of my breast through my shirt, teasing just enough to make my body arch into him even as my mind screams to run. “Not when I want you.”
And then his mouth is on mine.
Not gentle, not tentative. Hot and filthy, his tongue pushes past my lips like he owns me, like he’s starved and I’m the only thing that could ever fill him. His other hand fists in my hair, yanking my head back so he can devour me deeper. The kiss is wet, desperate, cruel in its sweetness—his teeth scraping my bottom lip, sucking until it hurts.
I moan into him, broken and breathless, my hands clawing at his shirt even though I swore I’d never give him this again. Shame floods me, but it’s drowned by heat, by the way his kiss feels like a promise and a punishment all at once.
He groans against my mouth,low and wrecked, whispering between bruising kisses, “You taste like mine, Scar. You’ll always taste like mine.”
The second his mouth crashes to mine, I forget how to breathe. It isn’t soft, it isn’t careful—he kisses me like he’s starving, like I’ve been keeping something from him all along and he’s finally taking it back.
My fists slam into his chest, but instead of pushing, I’m clutching, dragging him closer until there’s no space left between us. His hand knots in my hair, yanking just enough to make me gasp, and he swallows the sound like it belongs to him.
Every swipe of his tongue, every bite of my lip, it’s too much and not enough. My head spins, shame colliding with heat until I can’t tell them apart.
“Fuck, Scar,” he groans against my mouth, his breath hot and broken, his words sweet and filthy all at once. “Tell me to stop and I will. But don’t lie to me. Don’t kiss me like this and pretend you don’t want it.”
His other hand slides to my waist, squeezing hard, dragging me flush to him, and the world tilts—just his mouth devouring mine, his body pinning me like I’ll never escape, like I don’t want to.
His mouth devours mine until I’m dizzy, until I can’t remember where I end and he begins. My back slams against the seat, his hand digging into my waist, pulling me up so tight against him I can feel every furious beat of his heart.
The kiss grows messier, hungrier—his teeth nip my bottom lip, his tongue slides deeper, claiming, ruining. My moan betrays me, and he groans like it’s the sound he’s been dying for.
Then his hand drifts lower. Not all the way. Just enough. Fingers hook under the hem of my shirt, grazingskin, burning every inch they touch. My whole body shudders.
“See?” he breathes against my lips, his forehead pressed to mine, voice trembling with rage and want. “This—fuck, Scar—this is real. Don’t tell me you don’t feel it. Don’t tell me you don’t need me.”
His other hand fists in my hair, angling my face so he can crush another kiss onto me, wetter, filthier, his tongue tasting my sobs like he wants to drink them. I can’t stop. I don’t want to.
And it terrifies me more than anything.
His hand slides higher under my shirt, dragging roughly over my ribs, his palm flattening against my bare skin like he owns it. I gasp into his mouth, but he swallows the sound, kissing me harder, deeper, his tongue claiming every inch.
“Kai—” it breaks out of me, muffled against his lips, but he growls low, silencing me with another brutal kiss.
“Don’t say my name like that unless you mean it,” he whispers against my mouth, his hand squeezing at my side, thumb brushing dangerously close to the curve of my breast. My body trembled with a confusing mix of shame and desire.
His other hand drags down, gripping my hip hard enough to bruise, then sliding lower, pressing me into him, grinding me against the hardness I shouldn’t feel. The friction shocks a moan out of me, loud and broken, and his grip only tightens.
“Fuck, Scar,” he groans into my mouth, lips wet, teeth clashing. “You can hate me later. But right now—right now, you’re mine.”
And I don’t stop him. I can’t. My body arches, begging without words as his hands wander, pushingfurther than they should, pulling me closer than anyone ever has.
His hand drags up, skimming the swell of my breast, thumb brushing just enough to make me jolt against him. I whimper into his mouth, chasing the touch, desperate, and that’s when he stops.
He pulls back an inch, lips still grazing mine, his breathing ragged. His hand stays there, cupping me through the thin lace, squeezing just enough to make me cry out—then sliding away, leaving me burning, empty.
“No—” The word shatters out of me, broken and pathetic, but he just smirks, brushing his lips along my jaw, down to my throat.
“You sound so sweet when you beg,” he whispers, his teeth scraping my skin. His hand trails lower again, hovering over my jeans, pressing hard enough to make me gasp—but not enough to give me anything real. He grinds me into him once, slow, brutal, then pulls back, making me sob in frustration.
“You feel that?” His breath is hot in my ear, cruel and tender all at once. “That’s mine. Every wet little shiver, every filthy sound—you’ll give it to me, Scar. But not tonight.”
I slam my fists against his chest, tears stinging, my whole body on fire, and he just holds me tighter, his forehead pressed to mine, whispering, “God, you’re perfect when you’re wrecked.”
