Royal(37)

Her chin wrinkles, and a thick tear slides down her cheek. Without hesitating, I bring her into my arms, sliding my hands through her hair and pressing her against my beating chest.

I’ve waited years to hold her like this.

“I’m sorry, Demi.”

She cries against my chest, a neat cry, not a sloppy, half-drunk bawl. I give her as much time as she needs, and the space around us grows quiet save for our breathing. We don’t move. We stand perfectly in place as I hold her in my arms. The scent of her rosemary mint shampoo—the same one she used in high school—wafts from the top of her head, and it takes me right back to those carefree summer days before our lives took a turn.

Her face pulls away, but her arms are locked firmly around my sides.

“I still love you, Demi.” I feel the need to tell her now, because I’m not sure I’ll ever get the chance, and it’s not the kind of thing you can just blurt out any time you want without looking like a crazy person. “I never stopped. And all those things you said? I feel the same. Except I don’t hate you. You didn’t do anything wrong. It was all me. And I hate myself for it.”

Demi’s eyes close, like my words are sinking into every open wound. Her tongue rakes across her bottom lip, and I feel her breathe me in. It’s just like old times, only better. Recharged. Renewed. I could stand here forever like this, never letting her go.

Her body pressed against mine eats away at my self-control. She’s the only thing I’ve ever wanted, and her perfect, heart-shaped lips are inches from mine.

Fuck it.

Those lips belong to me.

They always have.

They always will.





Chapter Seventeen




Demi



His lips are warm.

For a second, I’m convinced that this is a dream.

This kiss. His mouth on mine. I’m imagining it.

A shiver runs down my spine, and my lips part, accepting his tongue as it invades my mouth. His fingers dig into my scalp, sending pinpricks down my neck and back, and I melt into him.

Each second that passes breathes new life into me.

My chest squeezes tight. It’s so full, I think it might burst.

This is real.

This is really, really, really real.

His lips are soft, and an earthy, metallic scent fills my lungs. Mossy cologne on top of paint thinner on top of grease.

And I love it.

He fists my hair, tugging it down and finding the perfect angle of which to crush my lips once more. His kiss hasn’t changed in seven years. It still has the power to make me weightless and effervescent, to drown out my thoughts and replace them with light, and to make the outside world fade into nothingness.

His free hand drags down my side, hooking against the small of my back as we stumble to the couch. Our mouths uncouple.

He falls.

I fall.

My thighs straddle his hips as his hands search beneath my shirt, and as he cups my breasts, my straps fall down my bare shoulders.

The outline of his hard bulge rubs against me, exciting my core. Every graze of his fingers against my skin is electric.

Royal pulls my shirt over my head and goes straight for the hooks of my bra. My lips are glued to his. He kisses me over and over, and I die a little each time, but in a good way. I’m floating high above it all, watching from below.

I’m shirtless, bare, and my fingers tug the hem of his t-shirt until his chiseled chest is exposed in my dark living room. His greasy work pants against my white sofa are a silent “fuck you” to Brooks and this bullshit life he created for us.

I never wanted all the white.

It was all Brooks, and he didn’t care because he wasn’t the one stuck cleaning everything all the time.

I hope we stain the hell out of this sofa.

Royal palms my breasts and presses his mouth against my collarbone. My nipples wake, and my hips buck and circle. I can’t take it anymore. I want more. I need more.

This.

This is not enough.

I didn’t wait seven years for high school-grade heavy petting.

Sliding from his lap, I fall to my knees at his feet and tug at the zipper of his pants until my hand grazes his hardness. My mouth waters at the thought of taking him in my mouth, and I find myself holding my breath as I release him from the confines of his navy boxers.

Royal groans, and I take his thick erection in my hands, pumping and bringing my lips to the tip. My tongue swirls his head, and I lower my mouth again and again, fitting as much as I can. The salty sweet taste of pre-cum hits the back of my throat, and I happily swallow, eager for more.

He gathers my hair in a ponytail, keeping it out of my face as I lick and pump and suck.

“Fuck, Demi . . .” He releases a sigh. With my elbows against his thighs, I feel him tense. He pulls me up, vacating my mouth, and lunges for the button of my jeans.