Corrupt Me

Chapter 20

I heard his sharp inhale right before our lips touched. His body went rigid for a breath or two, and all I could think was had I made a mistake? Would he push me away? I'd only been selfishly thinking about me, what I wanted, what I needed.

What if Tristan didn't want me?

But then his hand shoved into my hair, cupping the back of my head as he crushed his lips against mine. My heart lurched in my chest at the pressure of his mouth. "Ever," he groaned into the kiss.

The gravelly texture of my name flooded my veins with a surge of warmth and something stronger. Much stronger. Lust like I'd never experienced. Not from a kiss. Not from anything.

My fingers curled around the nape of his neck, teasing the dark strands of his hair. Touching him, even something so simple, was electric, sending little heady shivers of what I could only compare as womanly power. The way his lips hungered for mine as if he'd been as starved for me as I was for him gave me a sense of confidence I desperately needed. Whether he did so intentionally or not didn't matter. He had no idea what it meant to me, even if it would be a short-term reprieve from the madness.

His tongue stroked my lips, urging them apart as the tip of his fingers grazed the side of my breast. I gasped, and his tongue slipped inside my mouth, touching mine with a wickedness that curled my toes.

When I kissed him, I hadn't thought beyond feeling his lips against mine. But now...

Heaven, this feels so right.

Apparently, Tristan wasn't having the same lightbulb realization I was. His lips tore away from mine, but he didn't move, his choppy breaths mingling with mine as our chests rose and fell heavily in sync. "What are you doing?" he demanded, but he'd already shown me how affected he'd been by our kiss.

My head angled to the side; my gaze drawn to his unbelievably soft lips. I had to have another taste. And another. I wanted to taste them all night, or what hours we had left before the sun crested. I licked my lips, sampling the remnants of himself he left on me. Nothing tasted fucking sweeter than Tristan. "I thought it was pretty obvious," I countered.

The fingers in my hair tightened. A warning? A struggle? Both perhaps because I wasn't sure he knew what was going on inside himself. "This isn't what you need. Sex isn't the answer," he muttered lowly, the depths of his blue eyes like a churning storm.

Kernels of frustration twirled through me. "How would you know what I do or don't need? For once, will you stop thinking you know what's best for me and let me decide? I know what I want," I murmured, kissing the corner of his mouth where his lip ring glimmered. The metal cooled my slightly swollen mouth.

Behind his eyes, an internal war brewed, and I was determined to sway the odds in my favor. For once, I wanted to be selfish and put myself first. This might not be the opportune situation to grow lady balls, but I promised myself I would find out who Everly Scott was in college.

"You're playing a dangerous game, Shortcake." The fingers in my hair yanked my head back to get his point across and instill a grain of fear within me.

He failed.

If anything, his warning made me want this night with him more. I needed Tristan to take me to the edge. For so many years, this tension swirled around us. It was past time to break, even if it was only for tonight. Even if things weren't the same between us. At least I'd no longer have to wonder, which could be risky. I could be disappointed, or I could be left craving more.

One night.

Did I deserve one night of pleasure? Of recklessness? Of thoughtless bliss? A pardon from the chaos in my head? The self-blame? The heartache? The anger? Oh, the fucking rage that simmered in my blood.