Rush
Mismatched eyes that have haunted the shit out of me for too many years to count-too many years to not call myself a gigantic pussy-stare up at me. They're liquid and fearful, and they make me want to grab her and kiss her so hard she starts crying and runs away. Yeah, I want to make her run away this time. But I can't. I won't. I have an audience, and they've come to see a show.
I let my eyes do the work, move down her body, take in that crazy, garden party-looking shit she's wearing. I have no idea what she's been up to since high school, never wanted to know, because I might've gone after her. And there was no way in hell I was jumping on board that train again.
She fucking murdered my heart. It still beats, but not nearly as strong.
"What's your name again?" I ask, then watch impassively as hurt flickers in her eyes.
"Addison," she says.
Shit, her voice is like a fucking vise to my cock. My eyes narrow on her. "You pregnant, Addison?"
She looks around, at everyone who's waiting, listening, then comes back to me, shakes her head. "No."
The lights in the center are killer bright, and they make her brown hair shimmer. I notice that it's gotten longer and lighter. Damn if I don't remember what it feels like all tangled up in my fingers.
"Any other reason why I shouldn't touch you today?" I ask.
She swallows, and I watch the movement in her throat so closely like it's the best goddamn movie I've ever seen.
"No," she says.
"Then let's get started."
I start to back up, but she reaches out and grabs my wrist. "Wait."
My skin burns where she's holding it. But even so, I don't pull away. My eyes lift and I utter, "What's up?"
"We didn't talk about what I wanted."
"No. We didn't." I swear to fucking god it's like the two of us are the only ones in the joint now. I know there's a crowd. I know Jane's watching me from her perch on the chair, probably wondering what the hell's my problem. But shit, I don't hear anything but Addison's voice, and I'm not seeing anything but her eyes, one blue, one green. The green one is almost the exact same color as mine. It'd been our thing. That eye of hers would only look at me. It belonged to me.
She belonged to me.
"Maybe something really small?" she says, her thin fingers still wrapped around my wrist. "A butterfly or a heart."
My mouth curves into a grin. "You didn't know?"
"Know what?" she asks.
"The skin doesn't get to choose the ink. Not here. I decide what I want on you."
Panic glitters in her eyes, and I can't help but get off on it.
"You really asking me to draw a heart on you, Addison?" I say.
Her teeth scrape against her top lip, and after a moment she releases me. She shakes her head. "Do what you want, Rush."
It's the first time she's used my name, and every goddamn memory of her whispering it, calling it out, moaning it in my ear, comes at me like a fucking firing squad.
I lift an eyebrow at her. "Wherever I want?"
She nods.
My body is stoked up and I know I'd better cool down if I'm going to be holding a needle to her skin.
I lean in and whisper, "You trust me, Addison?"
She shivers instantly. "Trust has nothing to do with this. Nothing to do with why I'm here."
"Yeah, I know," I tell her. Because I do. The reason was in every email I never opened, every letter I sent back unread, every phone call I ignored. "You want something from me I'll never give you."
Her eyes hold me captive. They always did.
"You have to," she says, her voice reed-thin.
I shake my head. Around us the crowd is getting restless. I don't give a shit about them, and I know I should.
"You have to, Rush," she says again, more impassioned this time. "I can't..." She stops, looks away.
I hate that I care. I fucking hate it. And yet I ask, "You can't what?"
It was her turn to shake her head. "Nothing. I'm ready. For you, for whatever you choose." She lifts her chin. "For my first ink."
The crowd explodes into hoots and catcalls. They've waited long enough. Maybe I have, too. Getting her skin under me again. Not for pleasure, but for pain.
I back up and motion to my chair. "Fine. Take off your shirt and lie down."
