“You won’t—” I hiccup. “You won’t look back.”
He takes one more step. “I won’t look back.”
I nod, crying harder now. “You’ll be ha—ha—” I sniffle pathetically. “Happy without me.”
“I will be happy without you.”
“And successful.”
“And successful,” he echoes.
“Because none of this was meant to be.” He doesn’t repeat the words, but I’m crying too hard to notice. I press my eyes closed to quell the tears as broken words flood out. “Because we were never real. Because you never loved me. Because I never—”
Abruptly, without any warning at all, my body is slammed backward against a bookshelf. At least three tomes rattle to the floor with the force of impact. Carter’s hard body collides into mine, pressing me savagely into the shelves.
A large hand closes around my throat — not choking me with any sort of strength, but collaring me securely in place. I can’t move; I don’t want to.
I have craved his touch for weeks.
An unending hunger for contact.
My wet eyes open to his and the mix of anger and despair I see in them shakes me down to my shattered soul. His mouth skims mine as he speaks, each word a growl against my lips.
“Don’t ever ask me to say I don’t love you.”
I feel my heart lurch inside my chest and I allow my body to lurch along with it — forward, pushing against the grip around my neck, until I’ve fused my mouth with his.
Passion explodes the minute our lips brush. My moan of need is lost beneath Carter’s growl of desire as he takes full control of the kiss, his tongue spearing into my mouth, his hands moving down my body, igniting an inferno of passion that sets my nerve endings on fire.
Yes.
Yes.
Yes.
This is what I need.
What I live for.
What I’d die for.
My legs go around his waist as he lifts me easily against the shelves. My skirt rides up as my spine jolts against the books, a literary headboard, knocking a few more to the ground. I barely notice — I’m too lost in the kiss. In the feeling of Carter’s mouth devouring mine, of his muscular body pressing in so tightly I can barely breathe.
“God, Emilia,” he mutters against my neck, shifting his hold on me. I gasp as it brings our bodies into new alignment, his length pressing against my core through the fabric of his pants. “I need you.”
“I need you, too,” I breathe. “So badly it hurts.”
Holding me securely against the shelves with his hips, he slides one hand inside my underwear, groaning against my mouth when he feels how turned on I am. How ready I am.
Take me now.
Hard.
Fast.
Make me yours.
His strong fingers tear through the thin lace of my underwear in seconds, reducing them to ribbons. They flutter to the floor along with the fallen books.