Like me.

Like me.

Like me.

It feels like Ryler and I are so similar.

God, how I want that to be true.

I’ve never had sex because I wanted to. God, do I want to have sex with Ryler. So much that I forget about everything and bask in the freedom of knowing nothing.

I only remove my lips to peel Ryler’s shirt off, then toss the fabric aside and trace my fingers across his pale flesh inked with poems, lyrics, patterns, and swirls of colors.

“You’re so beautiful,” I mutter, blushing a little when he chuckles.

So are you, he mouths, gazing down at me, his fingers lingering near the hem of my shirt. You’re so pretty.

My blush deepens as I remember the night of the concert and how I called him pretty. My embarrassment is short lived as he grabs the bottom of my shirt, and I sit up so he can take it off. Then our chests and lips collide, and our tongues tangle as our hands wander all over each other’s flesh, feeling and tasting each other completely.

The feel of his metal lip ring grazing my tongue is mind blowing, but then his finger brushes my nipple, and that’s when I lose it. A whimper flees my lips, my back arching into his touch. He groans in response, pinching a little harder.

“Ryler,” I whisper breathlessly against his lip as I slip my hand downward toward the top of his jeans again. My fingers fumble to get the button undone then I draw down his zipper.

He momentarily pauses, confliction filling his eyes as he stares down at me. I get where the indecision is stemming from. So many secrets swirl in the air between us, but for once in my life, I want to have what I want at the moment I want it without anyone telling me I can’t have it. Perhaps, if I can just do it, do what I want for once without fearing the consequences, I’ll finally get the strength to run away and never look back.

“Please,” I practically beg, telling myself that the Ryler I want is the one I first met. Nothing more. Nothing less.

With a deep breath, he moves back and flicks the button of my shorts undone, silently agreeing to be with me. The fact that he gives into me makes me believe that somewhere beneath the Ryler who works for my father lays the person I first met—the one who gave me a few fleeting moments away from reality.

My body shivers as he drags the zipper down, his knuckles grazing against my flesh. My breathing quickens into short, erratic breaths, and my nipples harden as my chest heaves.

After he pauses, he gazes down at me. Are you sure? he mouths.

When I nod, something snaps inside both of us. The calculated movements turn helpless and panicky, as if we’re both afraid the moment is going to vanish before our eyes. The rest of our clothes get shed, and then his body covers mine.

We nip at each other’s flesh, nails scratching to hold on as our hips grind together. I grip on to his shoulder blades, kissing him deeply, waiting for him to slip inside me. Instead, he continues to kiss me, his fingers traveling across the curve of my breast, along my ribcage, to my hip. He strokes my skin, tracing small circles, before his hand drifts between my legs. With his knees, he urges my legs open, and I easily give in.

When his finger slips inside me, I gasp, biting down on his bottom lip hard. He groans and then kisses me deeply, sucking on my tongue while his fingers move between my legs, driving me toward the edge.

Right as I’m about to fall, though, he removes his fingers and pushes away from me.

Horror seeps into my bones that he doesn’t want this as much as me.

Pushing up on my elbows, I reach for my blanket to cover up, but stop when I realize he has only climbed off me to grab a condom from his wallet.

I lie back down and count my breaths, telling myself that what I’m about to do is okay. That I want it and that’s enough. That it’s okay to want sex.

My thoughts calm as Ryler situates above me. He brushes my hair out of my face and stares deeply into my eyes as he rocks forward, slowly easing into me. I shut my eyes and start to move with him, our hips moving so rhythmically it’s like we were made for each other.

As long as I keep my eyes shut, I can almost pretend that’s true. That we’re two people who care about each other, who found each other in the darkness. Who are connected.

What I wouldn’t give to keep my eyes shut and hold on to that version of the truth forever. Hold on to this version of Ryler forever and never, ever let go.

Chapter 12

Buried Alive

Ryler

As I lie awake, staring up at the ceiling of Emery’s bedroom, I try to put together what happened over the course of the last two hours. I told Emery about Aura and my past, and then Emery and I had sex. Fuck, it was unbelievable, like our bodies created poetry.

“What are you thinking about?” Emery wonders, propping up on her arm and staring down at me. Her hair is a tangled mess around her face, her eyeliner is smeared, and her skin is sheen with sweat.

“About you and me.” I reach for her face and stroke her cheek, wondering what to do next. Where do I go from here? Where do we go from here? “How about you?”

She gives a half shrug, her lips quirking to a small smile. “How good that felt.”

I can’t help chuckling and reach to lace our fingers together, but she winces from my touch. I glance down at her arm and realize that she never did tell me who hurt her.

I brush my thumb across one of the bruises on the inside of her wrists. Who did this to you? I mouth.

She shakes her head again, her expression turning stone cold as she sits up, pressing the sheet to her chest. “Please don’t bring that up again. I can’t tell you. If I do, I’ll be in danger.”