Wreck Me (Corrupt Legacy Series #2)

“Then—”

“Then what?” He dares me to say we’re over, while every bone in me fractures under the weight of his stare.

“Why are you like this?”

“What? Did I give you the impression I’m not the guy who goes after what he wants?”

“Well, you had me.”

“Stop pretending like this is only physical,” he raises his voice, ringing with irritation. I shush him while he plops on the edge of the bed and flips through my sketches.

I rush to take it from him. “Give it back.”

Instead, he flicks through dozens of pages, each showing him, his hands, his eyes, his stance. Basically, it’s him in every posture I got to see him. My greatest weakness is now in the open for him to see.

He arches an arrogant brow. “I did my best to be a great lay, but this is a bit more, don’t you think?”

Him being an asshole right now won’t get him what he wants. Nothing could. Some things are not enough, which sounds like a damn contradiction. Love should be enough. Desire and the will to be together should be more than enough.

I snatch it from his hands. Yanking the drawer to my desk open, I push the sketchbook inside and slam it shut, the desk rattling from the force like my insides.

He offers me a sad smile. Legs parted, his hands dangle over his knees.

“I don’t know what to do with you. With this Abigail you always revert to. Help me out, sweetheart… you’re not the only one terrified of this.”

“The only thing missing is your dying devotion,” I say, forcing as much annoyance as I can into my tone.

“You’re sarcastic. I’m an asshole when things don’t go my way. We are quite a fucked up pair.”

I lift my arms, breathing through the fog of frustration. “You want things from me I can never give you.”

“So fucking sorry, I want to hold your hand, call you my girlfriend, spend time with you without you looking over your shoulder. I’m so damn unreasonable.”

“Dane…”

“I’m fucking leaving.”

He shoots to his feet, ready to leave. A chill sweeps through my insides, freezing me. It would only take a push, and I would fall apart in pieces.

Let him go. Please, you have to let him go.

This perpetual internal war over what I should do and want to do tears me apart. Once again, my feelings override my rationality. My hand shoots to hold on to him, my heart pounding a thunderous and erratic beat that deafens me.

“If you think I wouldn’t love those things, you’re mistaken. But that will never happen. And even if I’m going to be free, you probably will have found someone else by then. You’re here on borrowed time. You’ll leave and live your best life. I will never be a part of that. My life will be here in Greenville, a luxurious cage. I need you to go.”

“My brain, Abigail, doesn’t work like that. I’m different…”

We’re a mess, a beautiful mess. My heart recognizes all of his broken pieces. Our broken pieces don’t cut; they just complement each other, creating a marvelous whole. Our souls recognize the other as its counterpart.

“I just want to protect you.”

He cocks his head, slamming a fist against his chest. “You’re tormenting me. This is what you do… constantly… fucking with my head… playing with my heart…”

The sincerity is stamped on his face in a sad acceptance. It makes me want to rip my chest open and let him see what’s inside—better who. My heart is his.

“I’m sorry,” I murmur, dejection coating my tongue.

“Don’t be. It’s on me.”