Her eyes that usually hold no emotions widen a little as she takes in my bloodied hands and shoes, my clenched fists and jaw. I bet I’m a sight to behold.
“What’s with your hands? Why is there blood?” She approaches me and reaches a hand out as if to touch me before she quickly drops it to her side, realizing who she is and who I am.
Reina doesn’t touch me. She doesn’t even let me kiss her. The few times I tried, she shut me off so hard, it still draws a black hole in my chest.
But she begged for the teacher’s cock.
She lets the other football players flirt with her as if she’s single.
As if I don’t fucking exist.
“Have you been hitting people again? What is wrong with you?” She folds her arms over her chest, building that invisible wall between us.
I fucking hate it when she does that.
At this time, I have no room to think, let alone act rationally.
The rage that’s been plaguing me since the afternoon has mounted and heightened to dangerous levels.
I thought beating that sick fuck would satiate it, but it’s made it worse.
Or rather, his words did.
I storm toward Reina and wrap my hand around her throat, my bloodied hand with the busted knuckles. Reina barely
flinches as I slam her back against the wall.
“You.” My mouth hovers inches away from hers. “You’re what’s fucking wrong with me, Reina.”
Her face reddens—from the lack of air—but she doesn’t struggle. She doesn’t attempt to push me off her.
A statue.
A cold, lifeless statue.
Why the fuck have I ever thought she could be something else?
I release her with a roar, my tendons ripping with tension. Then I slam my fists on either side of her face, ripping my knuckles even more.
Fresh blood trails down the wall as I pant, staring down at her. She watches me back with eyes so blue, they could drown me.
She doesn’t even blink, just stands there.
But for the first time in a long time, a tear slides down her cheek. It’s only one single tear, but it creates havoc in her gaze.
For a moment, her eyes fill with a deep sense of sadness, and it guts me. It rips me open and cuts me into pieces.
I don’t think when I lower my head and slam my lips to hers, biting them, devouring them. Reina is that forbidden fruit, something that tastes exquisite because it’s sin. Her mouth trembles and I take the opening to thrust my tongue inside. I feast on her, on her breaths and the softness. On her taste and even her fucking coldness.
She doesn’t kiss me back. Reina never kisses me back, but at least this time, she doesn’t push me away, she just lets me kiss the daylights out of her while she stands there, both her hands glued to her side.
Then, as if realizing she shouldn’t let this happen, her hands fist and she shoves me an arm’s length away. Her chest rises and falls with exertion, matching the rhythm of mine.
“Forget me, Asher,” she whispers. “I don’t deserve whatever you’re doing for me.”
“Forget you?” I wrap my hand around her throat again. It doesn’t cut her air off this time; it’s only firm enough to keep her in place, to feel her pulse and know she’s indeed a human, not a robot. “You think that can happen with a snap of a finger? If I could, I would’ve done it ages ago.”
As quickly as her vulnerability showed, she tucks it away again and her cold self comes back to light, like ice that never melts.