“Hey.” Serena was drinking straight from the bottle. She really should have been born a dude, pretty sure Junior would still be obsessed. “Your dad let you go.”
“He’s too smart.” Junior plopped onto the couch and flipped on the TV. “Also, we ordered pizza. Go clean up before you ruin your own floors.”
“Yeah.” I stomped up the stairs, and again she followed. And it pissed me off, the loyalty, the barely asking any questions, the lack of just anything unless I pushed her.
I wanted someone angry like me.
I wanted someone sad like me.
I wanted someone to yell.
And I wanted to pick a fight so bad my fists burned with it.
I stripped out of my wet shirt once I reached my bedroom and tossed it to the bathroom floor. Annie stared at me through the bathroom mirror, her eyes were so wide like she was trying to drink in every detail and lacking the ability to do it.
“What,” I barked, slamming my hands down on the tile. She jumped, and then she just stared.
I counted the beats, the seconds as her eyes locked onto mine. What was she thinking? Why was she staring? And why the hell was she still here?
“Go,” I said through clenched teeth.
A frown stretched across her pretty face, and then she pulled her top over her head, leaving her completely topless and me completely helpless not to stare. “I need some clothes for home.”
“Don’t get pissed when I say, I prefer you naked. Khaki skirts do nothing for you.”
Her eyes narrowed. “They’re comfortable, and at least then guys don’t give me attention.”
This surprised me even though I didn’t want to have any sort of conversation with her. But the words seemed to tumble off my tongue uninvited. “You don’t want guys’ attention?”
“Maybe just yours.” That damn swallow again.
“Trust me, you don’t.” I grabbed a towel, then she grabbed a towel. Was she really going to just mirror everything I did?
Ignoring her, I gave her my back and turned on the shower, almost tempted to jump into the chilly water to cool off my anger.
To cool off the fact that for the first time in over two weeks, I felt like I was responding to a woman. Guilt hit me so hard I wanted to die.
This was wrong.
What the fuck was I doing?
How dare she.
A hand touched my back.
I flinched.
And then another hand touched my bare back sliding down to my wet jeans, her breasts slid against my skin.
“I don’t want this,” I whispered.
“At least lie to my face.” Her hands shook as she tried to tug my jeans down. “And sometimes need trumps want.”
I squeezed my eyes closed. “Leave before I lose my temper… again. I’m serious, Annie, you don’t belong here.” In this house, with my demons, by my side, in my shower naked.
I shuddered, kicked off the remaining clothes, and stepped into the shower pressing my forehead against the white tile, my thoughts a blur, my chest heaving even though I was standing still.
I felt her behind me even before she opened her mouth.
Shoving aside every rational thought, I turned around and picked her up, slamming my lips against hers in another kiss of warning, pain, and maybe a little bit of release.
She clung to my biceps, her lips parting, allowing me and my mean kisses relief that we hadn’t even known we needed.
She didn’t moan. She didn’t do anything except hold on to me and return my kiss with a wild one of her own. I tasted her, going back for more again and again as our bodies slid into one another.
With a groan, I picked her up and shoved the glass door open, only going as far as the sink.
Both of us were drenched as I dug my fingertips into her ass. Her hand wrapped around my length, pumping me once.
I almost yelled for her to stop.
It had been no one but Claire for so long.
What the fuck was I doing?
She gripped me so tight again, it was almost painful; my eyes rolled back as she scooted closer to the edge of the counter and tore her mouth away.
Panting, I gripped her by the shoulders and ground out, “This means nothing.”
“I know,” she whispered, uncertainty in her eyes. “Think of it as my thank you.”
“Thank you?” I frowned.
“For not killing me after everything when I know you still want to when I know you still think about punishing me—”
“I think about punishing you every second of every day, and this is not even close to being a penance for what you really deserve.” I glared and then thrust into her in one abrupt movement.
Her head fell forward, resting against my shoulder as her fingernails dug into my skin.
I wasn’t gentle.
I was rough.
My next thrust was so hard her body slid back across the tile, and her head hit the glass mirror.