Bad guy (REWRITTEN)

Chapter 15

The room still smelled of chlorine and salt, of skin warmed too long under bedroom lights. We lay tangled in the sheets she'd pulled over us earlier, her arm slung heavy across my waist, fingers tracing idle patterns over the curve of my hip like she was memorizing the shape of me by touch alone.

She shifted, propped herself on one elbow. Hair falling forward in damp, dark strands, green roots catching the low amber glow from the lamp. She looked softer like this—stripped of the sharp edges she wore at school, the smirk replaced by something quieter, almost careful.

"I play piano" she said suddenly, voice low, thumb brushing my collarbone. "Ukulele too. Guitar when I'm angry. And I sing." A small, private smile. "Badly, sometimes. But it feels good"

I listened while she talked about the upright her mom bought secondhand when she was nine, about the songs she wrote in the middle of the night when sleep wouldn't come, about Finneas teaching her chords on the living-room floor while their parents argued downstairs.

She told me things I hadn't expected: how she hated being the center of attention but craved it anyway, how she kept her softness locked behind sarcasm because people were cruel when they saw it. How she wasn't the villain everyone whispered about. Just guarded. Just tired of being hurt first.

I let her words settle over me like warm water. My head rested on her bicep; her heartbeat thudded steady against my ear.

Then she turned the question back.

"What about you?"

The air changed. Thicker. My smile came too fast, too thin.

"Nothing much interesting" I said, already sitting up. I reached for the hoodie crumpled at the foot of the bed, tugged it over my head. "Really"

She caught my wrist before the fabric settled. Gentle but firm.

"Hey" She tugged me back down until I was half-sprawled across her chest again. Arms looped around my waist, pulling me flush.

"Don't do that"

"Do what?"

"Disappear" Her thumb stroked the small of my back under the hoodie. Slow circles. "I just told you half my life story. Let me have something"

My throat closed. I stared at the hollow of her collarbone instead of her eyes.

"There's nothing worth telling" I said quietly.

"It's... dark. Always has been. I don't want to drag it in here"

She didn't speak right away. Just kept that slow, steady stroke along my spine. Then she shifted, rolled us so I was beneath her weight braced on her forearms, close enough that I could see the faint freckles across her nose, the way her lashes caught light.

"You think I'm scared of dark?" she murmured.

I swallowed. "I think you deserve better than mine"

Her expression flickered something raw, unguarded. Then she leaned down and kissed me.

Not hungry this time. Not desperate.

Slow.

Her lips moved over mine like she had all night to learn them by heart. Tongue brushing mine in lazy strokes, tasting, savoring. One hand slid into my hair, cradling the back of my skull; the other slipped beneath the hoodie, palm flat against my stomach, warm and steady.

I sighed into her mouth. Let her lead.

When she pulled back her forehead rested against mine.

"You don't have to give me everything tonight" she whispered. "Just... don't run from me. Not yet"

I closed my eyes. Nodded once.

She kissed me again deeper now, but still careful. Tongue stroking mine in slow, wet glides. I arched up into her without meaning to. She smiled against my lips, pleased, then kissed along my jaw, down the side of my throat. Open-mouthed. Soft. Teeth grazing just enough to make me shiver.

Her hands moved under the hoodie again—pushing it up, bunching fabric beneath my breasts. Cool air hit skin. Then her mouth followed, kissing the underside of one breast, then the other, slow worship. Tongue circling one nipple until it peaked, then drawing it between her lips. Gentle suction. Flick of tongue. A soft pull that made my back bow off the mattress.

I breathed her name, half plea, half wonder.

She hummed against me, vibration traveling straight between my legs. Switched sides. Same reverence. Same patience. Fingers rolling the wet nipple she'd just left, tugging lightly, then soothing with the flat of her thumb.

When she finally kissed her way down my stomach I was already trembling. She peeled the sweatpants down my thighs, took my underwear with them. Cool air kissed slick skin. She settled between my legs—shoulders spreading me wider, breath hot against my inner thighs.

"Look at me" she said.

I did.

Her eyes were dark, pupils blown, but the expression was soft. Almost reverent.

"You're beautiful" she whispered. Then she lowered her mouth.

First touch was just lips, soft, closed, pressing a kiss to my clit like it was something sacred. I gasped. Hips lifted instinctively. She smiled against me, then parted me with her tongue, slow, flat stroke from entrance to clit. Tasting. Learning.

I moaned long, low. Fingers threading into her hair.

She licked again. Firmer this time. Tongue circling the swollen bud in lazy spirals, then flicking once, twice. My thighs shook. She hooked one arm under my knee, pushed it wider, held me open while her mouth worked.

Two fingers slid inside slow, careful stretch. She curled them immediately, found that spot, pressed. Steady rhythm. Tongue never stopping, lapping, swirling, sucking gently.

Pleasure coiled tight and hot in my belly.

"Billie—"

She hummed. Vibration sent sparks up my spine.

I rocked against her mouth, small, helpless movements. She let me. Encouraged it. Added a third finger, slow burn of stretch that tipped me closer to the edge.

Her free hand slid up my body, found mine, laced our fingers together. Squeezed.

I came like that, hand locked in hers, back arched, mouth open on a silent cry that turned into her name. Wave after wave rolling through me. She didn't stop until I was whimpering, oversensitive, thighs quivering around her ears.

When she finally lifted her head her lips were glossy, chin wet. She crawled back up my body, kissed me deep, let me taste myself on her tongue.

I wrapped both arms around her neck. Held her there.

She broke the kiss just enough to speak against my mouth.

"You don't have to tell me everything tonight," she whispered. "

But I'm not going anywhere. Okay?"

I nodded. Buried my face in the crook of her neck. Breathed her in warm skin, something faintly sweet like vanilla.

She rolled us so I was draped across her chest again. One hand stroking my hair, the other resting possessive and gentle on the small of my back.

"Stay" she murmured.

I pressed a kiss to the hollow of her throat.

"I'm not running," I said against her skin.

Not tonight.

Maybe not ever.