The Last Word by Everly Lucas

Author:Everly Lucas [Lucas, Everly]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-10-02T05:00:00+00:00

Ten

What am I thinking? Better yet, what am I doing?

This isn’t supposed to happen. I was never supposed to feel sorry for him. Or feel anything for him but hate. And that was easy when he was acting like a dick or just plain indifferent to me. But this…this pain, these tears. They wreck me.

Van Woods is clearly a man filled with regret. And, yeah, good. He should be. More than he knows. He should hate himself as much as I’m trying to hate him. Trying so hard. But how can I, when his heart is mine and mine is his, and there was never any hope of separating the two? Four years without him wasn’t able to change that. The daily hell I live through—the hell Van helped create—couldn’t erase how tied I am to him.

His pain hits me as hard and cuts me as deep as my own, and I need to…I don’t know…take it away. Make it hurt worse. Wallow in it. Heal it. Heal us.

I don’t know how to do that, but I do know I can’t resist the pull of his gravity anymore. All I can do is let go and give in.

Van doesn’t move, not an inch. So like in that tree when we were kids and on the night of his prom, I move first.

Holding him steady with my hands bracketing his face, I take in all of his crazy-beautiful features. Smoldering brown eyes, the color so deep I sink like a stone to the bottom of them. High cheekbones, slick with his tears. Strong jaw, flexing against my damp palms. Full lips… God, those lips. No one has lips like Van Woods.

I kiss them. Attack them. Mouths closed, but not for long. In the same breath, he responds, prying my lips apart with his and letting me sample his flavor for the first time in forever. I taste the cherries he kept sneaking from the garnish tray today and take long, slow licks of his sweet tongue.

Strong hands fist my hair at the roots, the ache in my scalp sending a rush of heat coursing through my veins and sparking some of the anger I’d lost at the sight of Van’s quiet tears. But the intense emotion just turns me on even more. Something is seriously wrong with me.

I fight back, breaking our kiss to scrape his jawline and the length of his neck with my teeth. Clutching the hem of his shirt, I pull it over his torso, my nails digging into the deep, solid ridges of his abdominal muscles.

He reaches behind his neck to help me, tugging the shirt off in one swift, sexy motion.

Fuck, he’s gorgeous. So much corded muscle, with prominent veins trailing over his arms—arms that scream power. Black tattoos, mostly tribal designs, decorate his dark skin, with the word “LOYALTY” inked across his upper chest in large, gothic letters. Below that, a heart with outstretched wings and the word “betrayal” etched near the center. Tattoos like these always have stories behind them.

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