A shiver of raw desire rakes its claws down my spine, and I want to say yes so bad it aches in my throat like a fist. Yes, I need him to fuck me so goddamn hard it breaks me into a million pieces. My whole body is on fire beneath my frigid skin, and I’m so wet that if it wasn’t raining, I’m pretty sure my jeans would still be soaked.
But I’m more than my body. I’m made up of a brain that says I hate this boy, that I want him to pay for all he’s already done to me, and sexing him up isn’t the kind of revenge it has in mind. I’m made up of the nightmares that plague me and the ache in my back from the knife of his betrayal. The memory of him almost killing my only friend because I dared have a good time with him. A heart that knows this boy with all his haunted darkness will destroy me if I let him, and maybe even if I don’t.
“No,” I say, wishing my traitorous body would stop saying yes so damn loud.
“Are you sure?” The anguish in his voice grips me like teeth, and I feel the darkness inside him calling to mine, luring me in until I know what he’s saying under the words falling from his lips. I know that he’s asking me to need him. I know that what he really means is that he needs to fuck me, but he can’t say it. And I know that if I let him, everything will change. But he already thinks he owns me, and if I fuck him, he won’t be wrong.
I’ve never felt anything close to this with anyone else, but just because I haven’t experienced it, that doesn’t mean I don’t recognize it for what it is. I know myself well enough to know that with Royal, there would be no casual. It’s not like with Colt or Maverick. This is something else entirely, something that doesn’t come along twice or even once in most people’s lives. And if I give in to Royal now, even I won’t be able to save me.
Royal slides a hand into my hair, grabbing a messy fistful and pressing his forehead against mine, his breath so hot against my swollen lips it makes my head spin, and I almost forget all the reasons I can’t give in. “I’ll let you decide this one time,” he says, his other hand gripping my hip. “Next time, I’ll choose for you.”
I close my eyes, feeling the prickle of tears behind my lids and the fluttering, racing pulse in my chest. “I’m sorry,” I whisper.
And then I let go of the railing and push him as hard as I can.