Page 120 of The Striker
“I know,” she tells me. “You didn’t mean to. You had good intentions. You didn’t think Austin would go after me. I know.” She pushes her hair out of her face. “I know, but even knowing,it doesn’t make any of this better. You still lied to me. I thought I could trust you but?—”
“You can,” I interject. “You know you can.”
Shaking her head, she takes a few steps back. “No. I can’t. I thought I could, but you proved me wrong when you went behind my back.”
Is she being serious right now?
The irritation bubbling inside me reaches a boiling point, and before I can stop myself, I'm closing the distance between us, my hands gripping her hips tightly and pulling her toward me. “You think I wanted this?” I demand, my voice raw and angry. “You think I enjoyed seeing you in pain?”
Cecilia meets my gaze, her dark brown eyes blazing with defiance. “You don't get to play the hero, Gabriel,” she spits, her words cutting deep. “You had no right meddling in my life. Not after I told you to back off.”
“So your solution is to ghost me? Real fucking mature, Cecilia.”
“Ghost you?” she snaps, “What did you expect? I can barely look at you without feeling like I’m being stabbed all over again, only this time in the chest.”
I open my mouth to respond, but she cuts me off with a bitter laugh. “You betrayed me,” she accuses, her voice trembling with emotion. “Don’t you get that? You broke your promise to let me fight my own battles. Regardless of your intent, you stabbed me in the back and my life is imploding because of it.”
The weight of her words hits me like a punch to the gut, and guilt consumes me. “I'm sorry,” I whisper, my voice barely audibleabove the pounding of my heart. “I’ll say it a thousand times if that’s what it takes for you to believe me. I’m so fucking sorry.”
But Cecilia doesn't want my apologies, and before I can say another word, she's pushing me away, her hands shoving against my chest with surprising force. “I don’t accept your apology,” she hisses, her eyes blazing with anger.
I stumble backwards, my chest aching with the force of her rejection. But despite the pain, I can't tear my gaze away from her. There's something raw and vulnerable in her eyes, something that draws me to her like a moth to a flame.
Her chest is heaving with each of her labored breaths. Before I can stop myself, I'm closing the distance between us once again, my lips crashing against hers in a desperate, angry kiss.
The anger and frustration that's been building between us explodes in a wave of passion and desire, and I lose myself in the heat of the moment, the world fading away until there's nothing but Cecilia and the burning need that consumes us both.
After the initial shock, I expect her to shove me away, but she surprises me when instead her arms wrap around my neck and she pulls me closer to her.
Our tongues and teeth clash against one another, and she bites at my lips, her teeth breaking the skin.
I hiss into her mouth, the taste of my blood mixing with the flavor of her kiss.
“I hate you,” she says when she finally tears her mouth from me. “And I don’t forgive you,” she says again.
“Then hate me,” I tell her.
Hoisting Cecilia into my arms, she wraps her legs around my waist and I carry her up the stairs and into my bedroom. “Hate me. Curse me. Yell at me.” I press her against my bedroom wall, grinding my length against her center. “But stop pushing me away.”
“We can’t do this,” she protests weakly, her voice breathless as I trail kisses along her jaw, mindful of the bruises on her skin.
“Yes, we can,” I insist, my desire for her clouding all reason and doubt.
Dropping her onto the bed, I tear my shirt over my head. Her gaze drinks me in and she licks her lips, lust flaring in her eyes.
I grin.
My fingers fumble with the buckle on my belt, and then I’m shoving my jeans over my legs and kicking them off my feet.
Reaching for her, I help Cecilia out of my hoodie before pressing her back to the bed and making quick work of removing her pants. When we’re both naked, I climb over her, settling myself between her legs.
Cupping her jaw, I pull her eyes toward me.
“This is a mistake,” she whispers.
“No, baby girl,” I tell her, “Nothing between you and me can ever be a mistake.”
Dipping forward, I claim her lips once again, my cock sliding into her hot, wet center. A perfect fit. I groan into the kiss, my hips thrusting forward to fill every inch of her.
