Page 124 of Ghosts Don't Cry
His mouth twists, jaw locking, and hestillsays nothing.
I move before I can think, my palms slamming against his chest and shoving him hard. He rocks back slightly on his heels. I do it again. He doesn’t make any move to defend himself. He just takes the hits.
That makes it worse.
My fingers form into fists and I hit him again, my breath coming faster.
“You don’t get to act like it was mercy. You don’t get to decide what I could have lived with.”
I punch him again, harder this time. He takes a half-step back.
“You don’t get to stand here and act like it was better that way.”
My hands hurt from the impact against his breastbone. His expression doesn’t change. So I keep going. Because it’s not enough. My fingers curl into his shirt, fabric bunching in my fists. I pull him closer just to shove him away again.
“You let me think I meant nothing.” Tears fill my vision. “You knew I would have stayed with you. You knew I’d have done anything to help you.”
His body is rigid under my palms, every muscle tense. Andthat… his restraint, infuriates me more.
“Say something!” I hit again, fists against his chest. Not hard enough to hurt him, but enough to feel it. “Anything!”
He grunts, but doesn’t move, letting me spill out every ounce of pain and anger choking me up inside.
“You let me believe you didn’t love me.” My breath catches, a sob tangling with my words. I shake my head. “Youdestroyedme.”
“Don’t you understand?” He finally speaks. “I couldn’t let you see me like that.”
“It wasn’t up to you.”
“Yes, it was.”
The certainty in his voice, theabsoluteconviction that he’s right, makes me want to scream. I shake my head, another sob breaking free, and then I hit him again. Fists against his chest, over and over. He takes it. Every hit. Every sob. Every broken, unintelligible word. Until my arms are shaking, and my hands ache, and I can’t breathe past the tears.
It’s too much. I should do what I said in the parking lot and walk away, keep him away from me. But I don’t. Because the anger isn’t enough. Becauseknowingisn’t enough. Because, even after everything—trying to forget him, convincing myself I was better off without him, focusing on my career—I still love him.
I always have.
My knees buckle, strength draining away all at once. His arms shoot out, catching me before I crumple. The shift from motionlessness to the way he cradles me gently, the solid strength of him as he holds me against his chest, sends another storm of sobs tearing through me.
My hands fist in his shirt, but this time, I cling to him instead of pushing him away. Desperation knots in my chest, twisting pain and longing into a confusing mess of emotion. I need him closer. I need to be sure that he's real.
I hesitate for only a second before lifting my head and pressing my mouth to his. Pain flares through my lip. I ignore it.
Ronan freezes … but only for a second.
His hands lift to cup my face, thumbs brushing over my cheeks, wiping away the tears. His mouth is careful against mine at first, but that’s not what I want.
I yank at his shirt, needing more, and rise up on my toes to press my lips more firmly against his. He groans, a deep rough sound that vibrates through his chest into mine, and then the kiss isn’t gentle at all. It’s frantic, and urgent, and desperate. His hands slide into my hair, fingers tangling, tugging until I tiltmy head back. His tongue slides against mine, and I shudder, pressing closer.
One hand drops, stroking down my spine before slipping beneath the fabric of my sweater. His palm is hot against my skin, and I arch into the touch. He makes another sound, a half-groan, half-growl.
Our lips separate long enough for him to drag my sweater off. The cold air rushes over my skin, raising goosebumps. But I don’t care, it doesn’t matter because he’shere, his warmth, his touch, everything I’ve missed.
My hands are just as greedy, pushing at his jacket, pulling at his shirt, needing to feel his skin against mine.
“Fuck. Phare.” His breath is hot against my jaw before his lips move down my neck, teeth nipping at the pulse hammering at the base.
I whimper, my nails digging into his shoulders, my body arching into him. Every nerve ending is on fire. Every breath is coming too fast.
