He steps toward me, diminishing the space between us. “Ever?” His forehead creases as he angles his head to the side, looking utterly confused and at the same time absolutely intrigued.
I wonder if he’s put two and two together.
Two years. It’s been two years since a guy touched me or kissed me.
I nonchalantly shrug. “Sometimes being unattached is the best thing for someone.”
“Yeah, but forever? That’s a really, really long time.”
“Yeah… it’s… Well, it’s forever. And I’ve been doing well with that rule for two years until you came along,” I press and his mouth sinks to a frown. “I’m not saying it was bad. I’m glad you stepped in when you did. No one’s ever done that for me, but still that kiss…” I should step back more because he’s so close I can barely think straight, but my feet refuse to budge. “It was forbidden.”
“Forbidden.” The word rolls off his tongue as he dares another step toward me.
I place a hand on his rock solid chest to stop him from getting nearer. “No way. We’re not breaking the rule again.”
He gives me an innocent look, which I’m starting to learn is his thing. “I’m not trying to break any rules, just heading in the direction of the door like you.”
“Yeah, right.” I roll my eyes. “If you knew what you were getting into, you’d be running away instead of me holding you back.”
His gaze swings to the large dumpster, where he once stopped Conner from hitting me, then he eyes the door over my shoulder. “I highly doubt that,” he mumbles then looks back at me. “But if you want me to back off, I will.”
Great. Now he’s giving me a choice that I’m clearly not capable of making. Repeating my mistakes. Repeating. Repeating. Repeating.
I thought I’d gotten better the second time around.
I have to do better to make up for what I did.
“I mean, it’s pretty clear we’re attracted to each other,” Tristan carries on, but doesn’t attempt to come any closer. “Or at least I’m attracted to you,” he says with a trace of self-doubt, giving me another glimpse of the side of him hiding under the flirty one. I kind of like this side of him and kind of fear it because it’s so…
Real.
As if I’ve lost my mind, I wet my lips with my tongue, a move I haven’t done in years. A slow smile curves at his mouth.
“You did that on purpose,” he murmurs while eyeing my mouth and moistening his lips with his tongue.
“No I didn’t.” I suck my bottom lip in between my teeth.
What the hell am I doing?
Stop leaning in Avery.
But we move like magnets. He leans in a little. I lean in a little. Me. Him. Me. Him. There’s hardly any space left between us. I can feel the warmth of his breath. Smell the delicious scent of his cologne. He’s still holding the cigarette and smoke circles around us, mingling with the intensity of the moment. Am I going to do this? Let my wall down for another guy?
No.
Yes.
No.
I never fully get to make the decision because Tristan eliminates the last of the space between us and our lips collide. Fire and lust blazes through my veins yet I remain frozen, refusing to take this kiss further. But when his warm tongue brushes against mine, my lips willingly part, as if they’d been eagerly waiting for this moment.
Holy.
Freaking.
Hell.
Two damn years.
I swear to God my body just combusted into flames. The fire inside me only blazes brighter as his hands grip my waist, his fingers delving into my flesh, pulling me closer as he sucks on my tongue, bites at my bottom lip, drowns me in heat. He starts backing me up somewhere… or maybe I’m pulling him with me as I move backward… It’s hard to tell. It’s hard to tell anything, other than he tastes so good, so warm, so enticing.
I’ve been so lonely.
And I want him.
God, do I want him.
His kiss is better than I imagined, carrying way more passion and intensity than I thought possible. And the fact that I have imagined kissing Tristan a thousand times becomes painfully aware to me. But I don’t have time to dwell on that revelation because he abruptly grasps my thighs and picks me up. My legs hook around his hips and seconds later, my back slams against the brick wall as he presses into me, rocking his hips against mine. My fingers stab through the back of his shirt as I seek something to hold onto, something that will bring me back to reality. Nothing works though and when he rolls his hips again, his hardness presses against me. My nails pierce through the fabric and scratch the flesh of his shoulder blades.
“Avery,” he groans, his lips leaving mine and trailing down my jawline to the faint scar on my throat where he licks a path to my collarbone.
This time, I’m the one to moan, a deep, throaty sound that I barely recognize as his teeth graze my sensitive flesh. His hands are wandering all over my body, feeling all of my curves and skin, but when his fingers brush just underneath the hem of my shirt right where my scars are, my eyes shoot open.
My lips stop moving.
My heart stops beating.
My lungs stop fighting.
I’m dying.
Remember why you died, Avery?
Remember what it felt like to be betrayed.
Abandoned.
“Wait, stop,” I whisper, sounding breathless, almost choked. “I can’t do this.” Even though it’s just a whisper, it’s enough to snap us both back to reality.
Tristan’s eyelids lift and our gazes collide. A beat of silence goes by before he releases me and shuffles back. It feels like I should be happier about my decision but I just feel miserable. The misery only amplifies when Tristan moves back into the moonlight and I get a glimpse of internal agony in his eyes. Whether it’s because of my rejection or something else, I’ll never know. Because he turns away from me and jogs off down the alleyway without saying another word, leaving me in the dark beneath the stars, questioning if I made the right decision. It sure as hell doesn’t feel that way. In fact, it feels wrong.
Everything feels wrong.
I glance up at the stars, searching for an answer, but all they seem to say is: Wake up, Avery. Wake up and open your eyes.
The problem is, my eyes are fully open and I can’t see a damn thing.
A little over five years earlier….
Chapter 12
Welcome to reality.
Avery
My dad was right. I am a dreamer like him. I used to dream lots of things, when I was asleep, and when I was awake sometimes. The last six months with Conner had felt like a dream. But now, it’s starting to feel like a nightmare. And unlike my father, I can’t run away from it.