Page 51 of Ghosts Don't Cry
“Ronan, please …” Her voice breaks. “You know that’s not how it was.”
“I don’t know shit. I just knew what you wanted me to be. All I needed to do was feed into your little fantasy.”
She struggles against my grip, but I don’t let her go. Ican’t. Her skin is soft and warm beneath my fingers, the pulse in her wrist fluttering like a caged bird.
“You were more than that.” Her tears are falling freely now, but her voice holds strong. “You were everything. And you know it. You’re just scared. Still so fucking scared of letting anyone … of letting me?—”
I kiss her.
It’s meant to shut her up. To prove her wrong, and show her I’m exactly the bastard I claim to be. But the second my mouth meets hers, all those years between us collapse into nothing.
She tastes like tears and memories, of despair and hope. Her voice from the past whispers my name loud inside my head. Memories of every night I spent in my cell, trying not to think about how she felt, how she sounded under my hands, flood my brain until I can’t think about anything but the way she’s pressed against me right now.
My grip on her wrist tightens—in punishment or prayer, I don’t know anymore.
She makes a sound, broken and wanting, and I swallow it. Make it mine. Make it hurt. And kiss her harder. Seven years I’ve lived without this. Withouther. And every second of that time is crashing through me with enough force to shatter bone.
Her hands twist in my grip, and when I don’t release her, she bites my lower lip, hard enough to sting, yet soft enough to remind me how she used to beg for more.
I let her go.
Her hands are in my hair before I can retreat. Her nails scrape against my scalp, fingers fisting hard enough to hurt. She drags my mouth back down to hers, kissing me like she’s trying to crawl inside my skin and find the boy she thought she knew beneath all the ink and scar tissue.
My hand finds her throat and curls around it, planning to force her away from me, but her pulse hammers against my palm, proof that she’s as wrecked by this as I am. Her heartbeat is rabbit-fast, and when I press my thumb just beneath her jaw, she makes a sound that shoots straight to my dick.
I’m drowning.
Burning.
Breaking apart.
My other hand slides into her hair, angling her head back. The kiss turns slower. I trace her bottom lip with my tongue, then dip inside to slide it against hers.
Warning bells are screaming now, but they’re distant, muffled by the way she tastes, the way she fits against me, the way my name sounds when she breathes it against my mouth.
Ronan.
My hand curves over her cheek, thumb swiping away tears I put there. My lips soften against hers, and for one perfect second, I let myself believe this could be real and I could be the man she deserves instead of the wreckage I am.
Then reality crashes back.
I break away. Push back hard enough that she stumbles.
“Go home, Lily.” My voice doesn’t sound like mine. “Find someone new to save, who will believe in the pretty little lies you tell yourself.”
She reaches out, and her fingertips brush against my jaw. The touch burns through my skin.
“Ronan—”
“Get out.”
For a moment, she stares at me, lips parted, eyes still bright with tears. Then her expression hardens.
“Fine. If that’s what you want. You can pretend what we had wasn’t real, but we both know the truth.” She straightens, pushes past me and walks toward the steps. Her voice is devoid of any emotion when she next speaks. “I hope one day you’ll stop punishing yourself for surviving. Good luck with the house restoration.”
I close the door on her, and watch through the window as she walks away. Each step sends a sharp pain through my chest. When she reaches her car, she looks back one last time. I hold my breath … and release it in an explosive rush when she doesn’t come back, just opens the car door and gets inside.
I stay perfectly still until her taillights disappear, and the night swallows any trace of her. When I’m certain she’s not coming back, I spin and bury my fist into the wall. The pain stops me from going after her and letting her see how much I’m still fucking drowning.
