Page 77 of Pray for Scars
Not mine.
The floor seems to spin beneath my feet, and I know if he wasn’t standing here, his chest brushing up against me, I might collapse.
Lucifer…if he saw me, if he knew this…
But he was with Ophelia, at his house. And when I ran, he let me. Is it wrong for me to want someone who would never let me go? Is it wrong for me to think I might love him anyway, and yet not stop this?
Jeremiah tilts his head, angling toward me, and when his lips brush against mine, a question and a demand all at once, I stop pressing against the wall.
Instead, I fall forward.
And he catches me.
Because he’s always caught me, even before I knew better. Before I knew I’d be better off alone than in his arms.
Even still, my mouth opens for him and he groans against my lips, his hands now in my hair, on my face, and mine against his chest, around his back.
“Sid,” he breathes into me, his tongue claiming my own. One hand goes around me, to the small of my back, pressing me against him. And even though we’re firmly together, no space between us, there’s something so foreign and gentle about his touch, his hands, that I’m shocked and melting all at once.
This feels like love.
Like what it means to be loved.
He’s been trying to show me my entire life and I thought Lucifer had done that. I thought Lucifer had loved me. Or tried to. But with Jeremiah’s lips gently tugging mine, his mouth all over my own, then down my chin and gentle on my throat—nothing like Lucifer’s or Mayhem’s bruising kisses—I realize this is love. It’s madness, no better in theory than Lucifer’s obsession, but it’s real.
His hands skim up my sides and he breaks away from me, his mouth leaving my collarbone, his eyes on mine.
“Sid.” My name comes out as a moan from his lips. “Baby,” he tries again, shaking his head, hands still on my waist, chest still rising and falling too fast. “Tell me to stop. Tell me this isn’t for me.You aren’t for me.”His words sound choked, like he can barely get them out.
I can tell him. I can form the words. I try to, my mouth shaping the sounds. But then...I can’t. Nothing comes out. The fire in my blood, pounding in my veins...I only want his mouth back on mine. I just want to disappear into this.
And he gives me what I want, with renewed urgency, a sloppy kiss that ends in a gentle bite on my bottom lip, making my toes curl.
My hands fumble with the buttons of his shirt, and he helps me along. I shove it off, let it fall to the floor. He presses me harder against the wall, steering me by my waist. Then he squats down and picks me up, and I wrap my legs around his torso, feel what he feels for me.
“Brooklin,” I gasp out, trying to put up some wall between us. Some sanity.
He laughs against my neck. “She’s on her knees for someone else right now, Sid. We don’t do commitment.”
Even still, I shouldn’t do this.
There are so many reasons I shouldn’t do this.
But suddenly I can’t name one. I arch my neck and press my body into him. His hands grip the back of my thighs and his mouth is trailing down my chest, over the tops of my breasts. He stops, suddenly, and I look down, wanting to urge him on. To keep him going so I can’t think. Can’t stop this. Can’t feel anything but us.
Can’t imagine how this might break Lucifer’s heart.
I don’t care.
I don’t care.
“Baby,” he whispers, “this is your last chance to stop me. Tell me now. Make me let you go.”
I run my fingers through his hair and his eyes flutter closed.
I lean in and kiss his neck, just under his ear. I feel him shiver against me.
“No,” I say.“No.Don’t let me go.”
