Page 28 of Slow Burn (Driven 5)
I know I should stop him, know I should push him away, but the minute his lips touch mine and his taste hits my tongue, I feel alive again. And I push all of the objections from my head—the ones that scream a warning about the devastation I know he can have on my heart once he gets ahold of it—and let myself fall under his spell. I want to lose myself, and the headiness I feel from his touch, his body, and his dominance doesn’t allow me to think.
Make me numb, Dante.
Right now, I just want to be taken. Transported away from my thoughts and my questions and my insecurities. And I try to lose myself in the physicality of it all to convince myself that I want this—to be pushed to the brink so hard and fast so that I can for
get everything I don’t want and remind myself that this is enough for me. Will be enough for me. That this is the way I choose to live my life.
Sex with someone who wants nothing more. Someone who will be out of my life just as quickly as he came into it.
That’s safe. That’s what I can accept.
“No, no, no!” I stop Dante by pressing my hands against his very firm and tempting chest, forcing him back so that his lips tear from mine. I can’t do it. Can’t lose myself in Dante when Becks is the one I really want.
Dante stares at me, jaw clenched in frustration, eyes telling me he wants me. “Yes, you do,” he murmurs. “I can help you forget, Haddie. Make you feel alive.”
My body and heart have two different mind-sets, but I keep him at arm’s length as I try to calm myself down. He angles his head, his eyes holding mine until they glance down to where his fingers begin to untie the laced ribbon crisscrossing the cleavage portion of my shirt.
… but you’re going to find yourself all tangled up in those dangling ends you refuse to tie …
Becks’s words hit my ears again. Pull me back from the brink of making a huge mistake. Make me think of him when all I was trying to do was use Dante to forget about him.
“No!” I tell him with more determination.
Dante leans forward against my palms, his fingers untying one more lace. “C’mon, babe, you want me as much as I want you.”
I keep my hands up in defense as my heart and head win over the control of my body. I give one final shove against him and turn so that my legs fall over the opposite side of the lounger from where he is sitting, his hands still on my body. I shrug out of his touch and shove myself up out of the chair and start walking toward the house.
“Such a fucking tease.”
I hear his snide comment from behind me, and I falter in my footsteps, fingers on the handle of the sliding-glass door. “Make sure you taste your words, Dante, before you spit them back out.”
I start to tug on the door, anger firing in my veins at him, at me, at who the hell knows? “Now you’re just playing hard to get, babe. You know how hard that makes me,” he says, his voice close behind me, “and I do know you like it nice and hard.”
And Dante’s words should turn me on, but they don’t. They make me cringe, make me think of Becks—and how much more tempting the comment was from him instead. Jesus Christ. Why won’t he leave my thoughts?
“Touch me again and you’ll have to find a new place to stay,” I say with my back to him as I walk into the house.
“Is that a threat or a promise?” he asks with a chuckle.
“It’s a fact,” I shout back to him as I enter my bedroom and slam my door shut. And I just stand there. My hands fisted and my mind humming with confusion. Hell yes, I’m mad at Dante, but I think I’m mad at myself more than anything.
When did I become this woman who uses men to forget other men? I mean how fucked-up is that? Not that it’s right, but using sex—being a little festive—to help forget the grief of Lexi’s death is one thing, but to use it to forget another man? That’s taking it a bit too far even for my own standards.
I begin to walk to the bathroom and then turn abruptly and pick up my cell phone. I just need to hear her voice. That’s it. A little something to help me get a grip on my reality and remind me of that woman I used to be. Sassy and spunky. Not this whiny shadow of myself that I don’t even like.
I can’t seem to find and hold on to myself anymore.
Except for when I hear her voice.
Or that one night with Becks.
Gah! I dial my voice mail and fast-forward past the new messages I don’t want to listen to right now. There’s only one saved message I want to hear, and I don’t care how many times I replay it, my chest still constricts at the sound of her voice.
I listen to her ramble, her voice breathy from the exertion of speaking as she neared the end. She wanders in her message, inconsistency in her thoughts, but at my favorite part, my fingers clutch onto the phone. “Remember, Had. Time is precious. Waste it wisely.” She pauses while her breath rattles in her chest, the slight wheeze coming through the line that still squeezes my heart and brings those days flooding back. “I love you. To the moon and back’s not far enough, Had. I’ll always love you.”
The sob catches in my throat, and the chills race over my skin as I listen to my sister’s breaths while she fumbles to end the call. I drop to the bed, needing her in so many ways. She was my rock. The serious one so that I could be the funny, flippant one. I let a few tears fall before I wipe them away hastily, mad at myself for being sad at that lasting gift she left me in that voice mail.
The knock on my door startles me. I don’t want to talk to Dante right now. I just want to be left alone and fall into a dreamless slumber. I ignore the summons and crawl farther up onto my bed and pull the blankets up around me.
