A place for Em & M to discuss books, post reviews, and ramble about whatever comes to mind!
Pain isn't new to me.
I've been to hell only to find it never really leaves when you get back. It haunts me through nightmares, unrequited love, lies, broken hearts, and now death.
A monster almost took my life.
My best friend carries half my soul a world away.
My boyfriend broke my heart but refuses to let me go.
And my father is dead.
I don’t believe in fate and I don’t believe in happily-ever-afters, but for some reason, I still hope.
Live, even with a tainted spirit.
Long for my other half to come back to me.
Risk another broken heart, just to feel loved again.
And refuse to let another horror break me.
In the face of my most recent tragedy, I have to decide whether forgiveness is something I can give. But even if that’s an option, can I be forgiven?
WHEN WE GOT OUTSIDE, Blake grabbed me and led me towards the wall where he caged me with a hand on either side of my head. He was breathing heavily, and for a moment neither of us said anything. Our breaths combined as if they weren't coming from either of us— as if we were one breathing being. He moved his hand to my face, traced down my cheek, and cupped my jaw.
“That was so stupid and reckless,” he said, anger and awe mixing in his tone.
He moved his fingers to softly trace my lips, and rested his other hand at the small of my back. His fingers grazed over the skin between my shirt and shorts, raising goose bumps all along my skin. It felt like I had been shocked and then reawakened with raw passion. With a gentle tug, he pulled my hips right into his.
“It was also the sexiest fucking thing I have ever seen.”
He crushed his lips against mine, and I moaned at the ferocity of the moment. I moved my arms to wrap around his neck and pressed my chest to his so we were as close together as we could be. My bottom lip was trapped between his. The light touch of his tongue hinted at more.
He grabbed the back of my head and put his other hand on the wall so he could grind his hips even harder against mine. I could feel how much he wanted me, and desire flooded me. With every lick of his tongue against mine, I could picture that same pressure against other parts of my body.
I moved my hands to rub his arms and his muscles tightened underneath my touch. Please, touch me more. My heart thudded and I arched my back, desperate. Blake moved the hand that had been in my long hair down my neck, and touched the cleavage that was spilling from the top of my shirt. He ran his hand down my ribs and then went under my blue top, to touch my bare skin. His hand, splayed against my stomach, made the heat that was building inside of me turn into a wildfire. I let out a loud moan, but I was too distracted by his lips to be embarrassed.
He pushed me harder against the wall and started trailing kisses and licks down the side of my neck. When the bricks scraped against the skin of my back, I was brought back to reality by the agonizing torment that would follow me around like a grim reaper looking for death.
With a hand around my throat, stopping my screams, he pushed my dress up to my neck.
“You make a noise, and I won’t let you get out of this alive. No one is coming for you, sweetheart,” he growled. He shoved me back against the brick wall. My bare skin scraped against the brick and blood trickled down my raw skin.
I gasped and pulled away from Blake. His brows knit in confusion, but once he got a look at my panic-stricken face, he backed away from me.
“We… I… no more.” I couldn't catch my breath and fought to calm the intense emotions that consumed me. I was rocking back and forth when I felt Blake slide down next to me. I don’t know how he knew, but he didn't touch me and I was grateful. His presence was enough. There were no tears. There hadn't been any tears since that night.
After a few minutes I calmed down enough to sit back against the wall. Blake rested with his knees pulled up, arms bent, and face in his hands. He looked up at me, and the anguish almost broke my heart.
“I’m s-,” he began.
“I’m so sor-” I said at the same time. “Blake, there’s a lot you still don’t know about me. I’m sorry I freaked out.” I looked back over at him and he sat up straighter and creased his brows together.
“Don’t ever say you’re sorry for wanting to stop or for needing a freak out moment. I will never force you to do something you don’t want to.”
I nodded, and felt a little better hearing his words. I wasn't ready to delve into the reasons behind my change in mood. It was enough to know that he understood, and wasn't going to press me for anything more than I was willing to give him.
Victoria Klahr (pronounced “Claire”) lives in Elizabeth City, North Carolina with her husband and daughter, Stephen and Alexis. She loves her chug (Pug/Chihuahua), Bandit, and daughter to pieces. She is a huge and proud book nerd who looks at her bookshelf in admiration daily. When she’s not daydreaming about book boyfriends and fantasizing about being a badass heroine like Rose Hathaway, she’s busy doing schoolwork for her Bachelor’s degree in Psychology and writing the stories that speak to her in her head. She loves peanut butter with Oreos, good friends, amazing gossip, driving in the middle of merge lanes, comedies, crude humor, pretending like she can dance, pretending like she can kick major ass, and a really, really good laugh.