Page 77 of Manic

“I, uh… finished your book,” she said. “You can have it back.”

“Did you like it?”

She lifted a shoulder, though a rosy flush entered her face. I slid it back, knowing she likely enjoyed that one the most.

“Keep it,” I said. “I never expected you to return them. Ronan won’t notice them missing, anyway.”

For a brief moment, she stood frozen as if she was unsure whether to accept it or not. Then she dipped her chin, stealing a fleeting glance to my mouth, before stuffing the book back inside her bag. She moved to walk past me, but as the scent of her shampoo hit my nose, something coiled beneath my ribs.

The urge to keep falling.

The urge to claim her as mine.

The fucking urge to wipe any trace of memory she had with other men. I was jealous of a dead guy, and I couldn’t fucking stand it.

Within half a second, I gripped her arm and shoved her against the fridge, my body flush against hers. Her bag dropped to the ground with a hard clatter, and I braced a hand beside her head. Sutton tipped her chin up, her pupils blown. Wisps of hair danced around her mouth as she roughly exhaled. Breathtaking.

“If you want a kiss, Hale,” I said gruffly, “just ask.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I don’t want a kiss from you.”

“No?” I popped the button on her jeans.

“Wh—what are you doing?”

“Giving you a distraction.”

The rosy color in her cheeks deepened as I ghosted the edge of her jeans, then dipped my hand beneath her pantyline. She squirmed, and I already knew she was fighting her arousal. Just knowing how wet she was likely getting had my dick aching to sink inside her. I was tired of cold showers and using my hand, and it was only a matter of time before I finally gave in.

I would wait, though.

For now, I’d use my fingers to ease her frustrations with Amelia. Ease my frustrations with wanting to keep Sutton for myself when I couldn’t understand it. My stuttering, thawing heart drowned all sense of logic.

“Are you even in control?” she sputtered.

I inched my hand closer. “Afraid I’ll kill you? Does the thought of me putting a gun between your lips make you wet?”

“I mean—I don’t need… oh, fuck.”

She moaned and fisted my shirt when my fingers met the warm, wet heat of her cunt. Blood rushed straight to my dick at the sound of her breathy moan, and I fought the clawing instinct to press closer.

“Good distraction?” I asked.

Sutton answered with a broken hum, and I circled her clit before going lower. When she released another sharp sound, mindlessly rocking her hips into my hand, I wondered why I hadn’t done this in the last two weeks.

I was a fucking idiot, because I loved those sounds. I loved when she flushed, and when her lips uncontrollably parted in the midst of pleasure. I loved that the noise in my head dulled just by looking at her, and that she was the one who did it for me.

Realizing that only irritated me, because I didn’t want to like her; I wanted to hate her. And yet here she was, quite literally wrapped around my fingers. I’d let her do anything she wanted to me.

Pinned against the fridge, her breaths grew thin and quick, panting in unison to the fall and rise of her chest. By the time I sank my fingers and worked her pussy, her rough exhales fanned my face. She clenched around me, and with each thrust inside her, my dick grew harder and harder. Fuck.

“Who is Noah, Sutton?”

“Fuck you.” Her eyes flew open, every trace of softness wiped from her face. Interesting.

“Is that consent?” I smirked. “Do you want me to bend you over and fill you with my cock instead?”

She growled, but still thrust her hips into my hand, like she couldn’t help herself. Hatred consumed her features before she screwed her eyes shut again. Good.