Heart of Thorns (Shadow Valley U Book 2)
Heart of Thorns: Chapter 35

My plan is going to backfire.

I can feel it in my bones and I most definitely can feel it between my legs.

He wants to challenge my hatred for him?

Fine.

After shoving his pants down, I cup him through his boxer briefs, relishing in the control I have. His head falls backward, and I stare at his bobbing throat.

I don’t hate him. But I need to in order to save myself from more heartbreak.

I push on his chest until the backs of his legs hit the bench. He sits and grips me around the waist.

“You’re doing a pretty shit job at showing me how much you hate me, kitten.”

I say nothing. I drape myself over his lap and straddle him. The hard metal of the bench presses against my throbbing knee, but I don’t care.

“Fuck,” he mutters. “I love seeing you like this.”

Heat brews between my legs, and my bra feels too tight.

Do not give in.

I’m putting myself through hell, for what? To prove to him that I don’t need him? To drive my hatred for him?

To protect your heart, Briar.

Right.

My fingers grip the cotton of my long sleeve. I tug it up and over my head only to drop it on the floor near my skates. Thorne gazes at my spilling breasts like he wants to take a bite out of them, and I’d truly love nothing more.

His hands grip me so hard around the waist, there’s a sting against my skin. He peers at me through hooded eyes and a slightly parted mouth. I drop my hands to his shoulders and start grinding.

He helps me and presses his hips to dull the ache we’re both feeling.

“If this is you hating me, I hope you never stop,” he rasps.

My mouth goes to his neck. I suck, nip, and lick him until he’s out of control with need. He moves me over him, our clothes causing so much friction, it burns my skin.

“Do you want to fuck me, Thorne?” I ask, whispering my seedy breath into his ear.

My plan is to get him twisted up, burning with need, completely desperate for me, and then demand he leave.

Just like he did to me the other day.

But maybe I should let him fuck me first.

No.

He repeats his name quietly. “Thorne?”

I cup him around the neck and lean back to stare into his eyes.

His warm, golden-speckled eyes.

Safe. I feel safe when I gaze into them, even while mending my bruised heart.

“Answer my question,” I snap, frustrated with my thoughts.

“Why did you call me Thorne?” he asks, still moving me back and forth.

I’m highly aware of every little thing.

The tension, the pulse between my legs, the scent of his cologne mingling with the faint smell of ice.

I’m breathless. “Answer… my… question.”

He peers up at me with sad eyes. As if he knows what I’m about to do.

“I’ll do anything you want me to do, kitten. Want me to fuck you? I will. Want to hate-fuck me to make yourself feel better? Go for it. I told you to take your anger out on me. Now do it.”

I dig my nails into his skin. He pauses and stares at me.

“This is me proving to you that I hate you.” I climb off his lap, grab my shirt, and slip it back on. I stare at him from across the locker room. He’s still on the bench with his pants undone, flushed cheeks, and an angry glare in my direction.

I cross my arms. “Get out.”

His head tilts, but he makes no move to listen to me.

“I said, get out.” This time my voice is a little more firm. So firm, I don’t think he noticed the quiver toward the end.

Thorne drops his head. He’s white-knuckling the bench but then he chuckles.

I’m hot with anger.

God, maybe I do fucking hate him.

“I get it,” he says. “You’re trying to give me a dose of my own medicine.”

“No—”

Thorne stands abruptly, and words die on the end of my lips.

He stalks over to me too quickly, and I freeze.

It seems like I’m holding my ground, but really, I’m not.

His hand gets lost in my hair with the forceful tipping of my chin. “You want me to chase you, kitten? Prove to you that I care about you? Tell you how wrong I was for pushing you away to focus on something that couldn’t in a million years be more important than you and your safety?”

I remain quiet. My lip wobbles with unshed emotion.

“Stop fighting me,” he pleads, dragging his thumb across my bottom lip.

I angrily whip my face away. “Why? So you can just throw it in my face that I’m just this big distraction to the thing you love the most? I gave you an out, Thorne! But here you are, showing up like fucking Prince Charming.”

Thorne grips my chin again and forces me to look at him.

“I was wrong.”

My jaw clenches.

“I didn’t think I could love something more than football, and then you came along with your cute little scowls and all-black clothing that only you can pull off. You stuck through the worst dinner of your life, took being openly offended by my parents, and still fucking came to my game after I fucked up and hurt you.” His brow furrows, and the grip on my chin gets heavier. “The truth is, it scared the hell out of me to see you terrified. I freaked out because this thing between us isn’t fake to me.”

Thorne’s face grows blurry. The knot in my throat tightens.

“You can stick to your guns, kitten. Pretend you hate me, claw my back, run just so I’ll chase after you—” My head flies backward with a harsh tug on my hair. “Because I will, Briar. I’ll fucking chase you.”

The locker room is hazy.

I can’t think straight.

I was so dead set on hurting him like he hurt me, but I can’t do it.

Some people are worth the heartbreak. And I think he’s one of them.

Thorne steps closer, and I move backward. We do this until my back hits the wall behind me.

“What’ll it be, kitten?” He cups both of my hands in one of his, bringing them up and over my head. He traps me. I couldn’t run even if I wanted to. “Are you going to soften for me? Let me break through that wall you’ve thrown up to keep me out? Or pretend like you still hate me?”

I stare at his perfect mouth.

“I guess we’ll see after you fuck me,” I whisper.

His knee goes between my legs, and he spreads them. “Challenge accepted, kitten.”

I grow weak with his kiss. It’s hot and sloppy. His tongue flicks inside my mouth, and I arch my back, pressing into him.

I whimper when he takes his hand and trails it down the front of my body until it rests above the waistband of my leggings. One finger swipes under the fabric and stays. I sink my teeth into his lip and pull.

He hums against my mouth. “You really are a little black cat, aren’t you?”

I suck in a breath when he moves his hand lower and swipes my clit. I’m so needy it hurts.

“I want you to beg for it, kitten.” He tugs on my earlobe.

Never.

I make a noise, and he eats it up, touching my clit again and again until I’m forcefully trying to free my hands from his grip.

“Beg.”

Another whine escapes past my lips. “N…no.”

He smiles against my mouth. “That’s fine. I’m patient.”

“Cassius.”

“Oh, we must be getting close. You used my first name.” His finger slips inside me, and I lose my footing.

“I w…wo… won’t beg.”

God. It feels so good yet so tortuous.

“Yes you will, kitten. You’re going to break just so I can piece you back together. The sooner you soften for me, the quicker I’ll let you come.”

As if he has the control?

His finger disappears. My eyes spring open, and he’s staring at me with a hungry gaze. His mouth curves and it’s the best thing I’ve ever seen.

“Beg, Briar.”

He never calls me that.

His tongue slips out of his mouth, and he runs it over his swollen bottom lip. A rush of heat washes through me, and no matter how much I try to protest, my body gives it away.

I’m ready to beg for it.