{18+ COMPLETE} For the past three years, Bren Hadaway has been preparing to die.
When he was sixteen, he watched his dad murder his mom. And ever since, he's been counting down the days until it was his turn to be at the end of a gun. And Bren has...
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The next morning, the world began to spin again. But it seemed like maybe we were spinning too close to the sun.
Because Bren was on fire.
It was almost as if he was making up for lost time. He was giving me everything—every kiss, touch, look that he had withheld from me over the past few days.
It started at lunch. Caroline had come home around noon, bringing sandwiches with her. We sat at the kitchen table, eating as she told us stories from her night out with friends, in which she admitted to having one too many cocktails. Or maybe five too many cocktails.
Bren was all smiles, laughing at her jokes, teasing her for her poor karaoke decisions. And meanwhile, his fingers caressed me beneath the table, pinching at my leggings as if he wished they were gone.
Caroline retreated to her room after that, nursing a hangover. Bren declared that we'd clean up, and it didn't take long for me to figure out that he had more dirty things on his mind than simply dishes.
I was washing our plates at the sink when he came up behind me, gripping my hips in his hands.
"Madie." That husky voice in my ear gave me shivers. I tried not to think of all the ways he'd said my name last night. I tried not to think of everything else that voice had said, too.
I twisted my head, trying to peer back at him. I could see half of his face, a dimpled grin on it. "Hey."
"How are you feeling?"
"How am I feeling?"
"Yeah. Is everything feeling okay?"
My brows furrowed. Bren must have noticed because he kissed my temple and asked, "Your head okay?"
My face relaxed a bit, smiling again as I reassured him. "My head's okay, Bren." I wondered how many months would pass before he stopped checking on that.
His hands wrapped around my waist. And then one of them continued up to rest on my chest. His fingers traced lightly over my heart. "And this? You've been through a lot. I've put you through a lot."
"You haven't. At this current moment, my heart has never felt more full, Bren," I said softly.
"Good." I wasn't sure if he even realized that he was doing it, but Bren started to caress my breast lightly through the hoodie of his that I was wearing. And then his hand fell away, and I thought he might step back to let me actually finish with the dishes.
I was wrong. Of course I was wrong.
His touch reappeared, except this time, Bren's fingers skimmed the waistband of my pants. I sucked in a breath, nearly dropping the plate in my hands.
And then the porcelain did slip through my fingers. Because his touch dipped into my pants, brushing over the top of my underwear. "What about here?" he asked, his voice achingly tender as he moved down to cup me over a thin layer of lace. Words like velvet, but a touch that was far more than a caress.
