Page 6 of Touch of Hate
Technically, he’s forbidden.
The thing you long for, even when you know you can’t have it. Every day he reminds me why we can’t do this, yet we somehow find our way back to each other for another stolen moment and forbidden kiss.
I know we have the rest of our lives ahead of us, but I’m getting tired of sneaking around, of being a secret kept in the dark. I’m tired of hiding what I feel for him, even if it’s painfully obvious to others. I don’t want to be his queen in the shadows. I want us to be real, official. I want Ren to be mine.
I round the corner of the stairwell and continue walking. Ren told me to meet him at the top, and I don’t want to be late.
Darkness glitters all around me, but where most would be afraid of it, I’m not. There’s something about the dark, something I can’t put into words. It’s both beautiful and dangerous because you never know what is lurking in its depths. I pause for a moment when I hear what I think are footsteps. The mere thought of being caught wandering around sends a shiver down my spine.
What’s my excuse?
The footsteps grow closer, and I lean into the wall of the dark stairwell, hoping whoever it is will walk right past me without noticing. I hold my breath, waiting. The footsteps are right behind me now.
My heart lurches in my chest. The heavy thud is all I can hear, and then a hand wraps around my waist, pulling from behind. A scream builds in my throat, and I’m a millisecond away from releasing it when a hand clamps over my mouth, the rough finger pads of the mystery person press gently but firmly into my cheeks. Thoughts swirling, I think of how my father and Quinton were right.
How stupid I am for walking around in the dark, all alone. I struggle in the person’s grasp, and icy fear and dread coat my insides. Panicking, I throw back an elbow and make contact with a stupidly hard wall of muscle.
A grunt escapes my assailant, and he releases me. I whirl around, my fists clenched tight, thinking of the defense moves my father taught me, only to find Ren standing there in all his glory. A deviant little smirk on his full lips.
“Are you kidding me?” I growl while trying to get my racing heart under control. I could kill him. I hope my face is conveying the rage I’m feeling right now.
“Sorry, Scar. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”
I roll my eyes and swat at his chest with my hand. “Yeah, ’cause that apology seems genuine.”
“Okay, how about this.” He blinks, his long lashes fanning against his cheeks. “I’m incredibly sorry for scaring you so badly you almost peed your pants.” The teasing grin on his lips makes it hard for me to stay mad at him and all I can do is shake my head.
He leans in, brushing a few strands of hair away from my face. The scent of his usual cologne hits me then, cinnamon and sandalwood. Alluring but calming.
I inhale deeply and press my face against his chest. The heavy thud of his heartbeat meets my ears. Briefly, I wonder if he likes what he just did?
Sneaking up on me? Terrifying me to death? But I don’t ask him, having other things I’d like to talk to him about first. Things regarding us.
“You know, we really should talk,” I start, wishing I could see more than just the dark contours of his face.
We’ve been here many times before, and maybe I’m just a glutton for punishment, or maybe I’m hoping that, just once, he’ll agree with me and change his mind. I’m not really sure, but I push forward, nevertheless.
Like a light switch being turned on, his mood changes. “You know this can’t happen, Scarlet. It’s hard enough without you making it worse. I wish you could let it go.” I ignore the irritation in his voice; my own anger toward him, and his endless need to protect me, overrides my thoughts.
“Why not?” I demand. “You keep giving me excuses, but that’s all they are. I know you want this as much as I do, Ren.” I’m on the verge of begging because I want this. I want him. I can’t tell you how many nights I’ve laid awake envisioning giving myself to him. Call it a fantasy, call it twisted or fucked up, I don’t know, but he’s all I want.
Needing to feel connected to him, I wrap an arm around his neck and slice my fingers through his thick hair. Our eyes collide in the darkness, and even though I can’t see it, I know there is apprehension there.
There always is because, in his eyes, I am his but only in secret.
“Excuses?” He sighs, shaking his head. “You think your brother killing me if he ever found out is just an excuse? Because that’s what he would do. Literally.”
A part of me wants to laugh, while a part of me knows what he’s saying is true. “Please. He would never kill you. You’re his best friend. Besides, I wouldn’t let Quinton hurt you.” Yes, Quinton would burn the whole place to the ground with rage, and my father would be pissed, but nothing would be as bad as them finding out we have been sneaking around all along. Telling them first would be the smartest thing. Eventually, everyone would come to terms with our choice, and we’d be together. In a perfect world. Right?
A groan rumbles inside his chest, and I know what that sound means. He’s standing on the knife’s edge battling between what he thinks is wrong and what is really right. I couldn’t lie to myself if I wanted to. The gruff sound ignites a fire deep in my belly that only he can extinguish.
I need his touch. I need his lips on mine.
“Ren.” I cup his cheek, drawing him closer, and he groans again. “You know I want you. I always have. I always will. Doesn’t that mean anything? How much we both want this?”
“Scarlet, please…” He says my name like a man praying to God for the first time. Yet even with desperation in his voice, he lowers his head an inch at a time. His control snaps, and the heat between us sizzles, a spark becoming a flame the moment his lips touch mine. Engulfed in his touch, I let him press his body against mine, the friction sending zaps of pleasure straight to my core. I’ve waited for this very second for what seems like a lifetime.
Holding me in place with his body, he runs a hand down my bare thigh. I’m wearing a skirt and a Corium University sweater I stole from Quinton. I ditched my panties tonight, hoping that maybe we would be able to take things a little further, and it would appear I made a good choice. Frantic with need and desire that match my own, he hitches my leg up over his hip. I sink my fingers into his hair, running my nails down his neck and shoulders, begging him with nothing more than my body to never let me go.