But...

But.

“I’m not leaving. No matter what you say or do, I’m not going anywhere. Not while you’re like this.”

“Like what?” His eyes clung to mine, icy green winter.

Dirty.

Hurt.

“Drunk.”

“What I do or don’t do is none of your conshern.”

“It is when I know this isn’t you.”

“You don’t know me.” He stormed off, beelining for the kitchen as a thread of strawberry scent followed him, along with a trail of mud from his boots. “If you knew me, you’d run from me.” His voice thickened. “You should run. Please, God. Run.”

I balled my hands and chased. “I’m not running, Gil. I’m going to help you.”

“You can’t.”

“Let me try.”

He reached for the vodka bottle, but I beat him to it.

“Don’t.” I held it out of arm’s reach. “Alcohol can’t cure your problems.”

His face twisted. “But it can drown out the pain.”

“No,” I said sadly. “It only amplifies it when it wears off.”

“The reprieve is shworth it.” He swayed as he pounced on me, pressing me against the kitchen bench, trying to reach the bottle behind my back.

I sucked in a breath as the air crackled like it always did when we touched.

He stiffened.

The outside world vanished.

His focus slipped from the bottle to my lips in a heartbeat, imprisoning me in a different type of hell.

I stopped breathing as his gaze darkened, hiding any vulnerabilities and secrets, turning him into an angry, intoxicated stranger.

A stranger whose nostrils flared and hands landed on either side of my hips, trapping me all while his body pressed indecently into mine.

“Gil...”

“Don’t.” He shook his head fast, his lips twisting into a grimace.

I shivered as he ducked his head and nuzzled his nose against my neck. The way we fit together, the way he knew instinctually what made me come apart said we’d done this a thousand times. As if it was acceptable, normal, real.

The bottle clattered out of my fingers, banging against the tile and spilling its crystal liquor around our feet.

Gil didn’t stop.

His fingers dug into my hipbones, yanking me into him. His teeth grazed my neck, and the world erupted in fire.

I moaned as he bit me.

I melted as his tongue licked my neck and his hips thrust hard into mine.

“Fuck, O...” His tongue became his lips, kissing me, decorating me in nips and worship as he worked his way from my throat to my collarbone. I shuddered as he unsheathed his teeth and bit me harder, making me liquefy.

My hands landed in his hair, sinking deep.

He wasn’t the only one drunk.

Suddenly, my brain swam. My mind shut down. My very chemical makeup drugged me.

I should push him away and run.

I should remember what he did to me the last time I was here.

I should scream and tell him to stop.

I couldn’t stop.

I couldn’t stop what I’d fantasised about for so long. Even if it was the biggest mistake of my life.

His hands climbed my body—heavy and dangerous. His touch was not gentle or kind as he thumbed my nipples and captured my jaw in both hands.

Pulling away, he blinked with vodka-hazy eyes. “Tell me to stop.”

I licked my lips, begging for common sense to answer him, but only lust replied. “I can’t.”

He squeezed his eyes together, his face a tortured mask. “You should.”

I nodded in his imprisonment. “I should.”

“But...you won’t.” His eyes met mine again, misery and heartbreak mixing in the frosty green.

“No.” I struggled in his hold, arching my chin up, giving him every permission to kiss me.

My pulse pounded in my ears, matching the drumming of his in his neck. We stood there, snapping in chemistry and drowning in need, both of us desperate but so afraid.

There were things we should say. Rules we should discuss. Futures we should protect.

But with alcohol stealing his power and desire stealing mine, we were both ruined.

“Fuck,” he groaned. His mouth descended on mine. Swift and sudden, sharp and sinful.

My eyes snapped shut as our lips bruised each other, our bodies breakable things beneath the hunger quickly consuming us. We’d played a dangerous game when we were younger. We’d denied ourselves. We’d fallen in love and let life steal us apart without ever indulging.

We were about to pay the price of that war.

Gil wrapped a fist in my hair, yanking my head back, bending me into pain as he kissed me deep. His tongue broke my lips apart, plunging into my mouth, possessing me.

I couldn’t get free.

My only option was to open wide and let his tongue own mine. The kiss was explosive, like drinking pure dynamite. Our tongues were matches, striking fire, blistering every neuron.

He thrust against me, pressing my back into the bench.

I squirmed as my fingers clawed at his nape, holding on and sinking deep at the same time.

Every lash of his tongue licked into my belly. My flesh swelled. My blood heated. Every part of me grew heavy and demanding.

He crawled into me, almost breaking me in two as he held the back of my neck and kissed me so hard I struggled to breathe.

I didn’t need oxygen.

I kissed him back. Violence for violence. My body spinning itself into an aching mess, shivering and sick with the unbearable need to have him inside me.

Our passion was lightning quick.

A bolt of energy that turned us into animals.

Tearing me from the kitchen bench, Gil stumbled toward the couch with me in his arms. He swayed to the side, dropping me to my feet. We didn’t make it to the furniture.

We wrapped ourselves around each other, balancing in our drunken, lust-drenched world. Our lips found each other in another manic kiss that made my eyes roll and core clench.

I’d never had such a crazy connection with another.

Never wanted to hurt someone as much as I wanted to love them.

His fingers scratched my nape as he held me tight and kissed me deep.

Kissed me and kissed me.

Kissed me as if making up for all the times he hadn’t kissed me in the past.

My lips burned. My tongue ached. And my body was jealous.

It wanted him everywhere, not just on my mouth.

Gil dropped to his knees.

For a second, I couldn’t figure out what happened. My lips smarted and turned cold. But then a loud moan fell from them as he fumbled at the zipper on my skirt, ripping it down to my feet.

Cool air licked around my garter belt and stockings. After I’d showered, I’d put on fresh office clothes. I stupidly didn’t want him knowing I’d been home, when I should’ve come here straight from work.

Perhaps, if I’d come here straight away, he wouldn’t be drunk.

Maybe, if I hadn’t delayed, I could’ve saved him whatever new pain he suffered.

I’d failed him.

Gil sat back on his heels, his eyes hot and black with undiluted lust. “You’re killing me, O.” His hand trembled as he ran a finger right over my lingerie-clad pussy. “Killing me.”

My legs buckled.

He caught me, dragging me to the floor, pressing me onto my back as I kicked my skirt from my ankles.

He didn’t ask for permission as he shot down my body and knelt between my spread legs. His jaw clenched as he pulled my knickers down and tossed them over his shoulder.

My cheeks blazed as his gaze fixated on my bareness. The part of me he’d never seen, never touched, never tasted.

And I had no shame as I spread my legs even wider, arching my back, begging him to finish what he started.

His eyebrows knitted together. He swallowed hard and shook his head as if trying to convince himself this wasn’t a dream. This was real. So, so real.

Without a word, he bowed over me and latched his mouth onto my heated pussy.

I lost myself.

My head dug into the floor as I writhed under his tongue.