But I want her to have to touch me all night. I want her to feel me. To lose control. To wonder if, at any moment, I might change my mind and have my way with her.
I must break her.
This will drive the first nail in harder than fucking her against the dirt ever would.
“Keep yourself warm,” Liesel spits at me.
I shake my head. “You lied. There are consequences. Keep me warm.”
“Or?” she asks, wanting to know what I’ll do to her if she disobeys.
“There is no ‘or.’ You will use your body to keep me warm.”
We stare at each other—a silent standoff.
The wind howls.
Liesel shudders.
I don’t know if she decides to follow my orders or if she’s looking to warm herself. Either way, she finally lies down on the dirt next to me.
“Liesel,” I warn when she doesn’t touch me.
She lifts an arm over my body. It floats in the air, refusing to touch me. It hovers there until her arm trembles, and she can’t hold it up any longer. Only then does she let it wrap around my shoulders.
The touch sends a million emotions through us both. It reminds me of when we were kids. Long before she knew Enzo, she knew me. It was my bed she snuck into, not his. It was me she longed for, not him.
“My legs are cold too.”
Her eyes shoot up to me, and she practically pouts.
I smirk, but I’m not sure she can see it, which is a shame, because I look irresistible when I smirk.
Her leg moves in a hard lump as she drapes it harshly over my legs.
I close my eyes with a smile. I’ve formed a tiny, almost unnoticeable crack in her shell. Tomorrow I’ll form another and another. I’ll torture her with tiny little cracks until she finally bursts.
I need her truth.
I need her answers.
I need her apology for what she’s done.
But I refuse to need her.
17
Liesel
Snuggling with Langston is torture.
It’s worse than anything Mr. Black did to me.
It’s worse than…okay, it’s not really as terrible as the worst thing that’s ever happened to me, but I imagine this is how it feels to be shot and slowly bleed out to death. Every drop is painful, and you just want to get to the end so it can be over.
Holding Langston feels like that.
I can smell the sweat from his pores that he worked up after he stormed off. It overpowers even the smell of the fire.