Octane

HEA

 

Not all instances of sexual abuse are written on page. 

When it is, it isn’t graphic in nature. 

When it isn’t, it’s inferred through thoughts from the FMC. 

 

There are some scenes of emotional and physical abuse.

The FMC cheats on her abusive boyfriend with the MMC.

 

“Jackson, I’m glad you’re here.”

I turn around, finally, and join him in the center of the room. The passion I see in his eyes causes my resolve to splinter.

No, Sawyer. Say what you need to say.

“You are?”

“Yes, I wanted to talk to you about what happened the other day.”

“I wanted to talk to you about that, too,” he smirks.

He takes a step toward me, and I take a step back.

“I heard what you said in your office, about not wanting to cheat.”

“Mmhmm?”

He takes another step forward, I take another one back.

“You’re right,” I continue. “We can’t start an affair.”

“I don’t want to start an affair with you, Sawyer.”

With a dangerous look in his eye, he takes another step forward. Shaking with need more than nerves, I take another step back.

“Okay,” I reply, and my heart breaks, knowing it’s over before it even began.

I look down because I can’t bear to look him in the eyes any longer, but then he speaks again.

“I want you all to myself.”

My head snaps up in surprise just before my back hits the door. Jackson reaches for the bar lock next to my head and swings it into place before his lips crash into mine. Just like that, what’s left of my resolve crumbles, and I wrap my arms around his neck. His hands run down my ribs, over my hips, and grip my ass. He lifts me up, and I curl my legs around him.

“We can’t,” I protest with my lips against his.

“Uh-uh,” he agrees.

“It’s not right,” I explain as he lays me down on the mattress.

“Definitely not.” He’s at the foot of the bed, unbuttoning his shirt as he stands over me. My legs are bent and hanging over the edge, which is exactly where it feels like I am right now: on the edge. I don’t know if this is the beginning of something incredible or if I’m about to make the biggest mistake of my life. But once his shirt hits the floor, I don’t care about anything else.

The sight of him shirtless, tanned, tatted, and ripped has me instantly wet. Leaning over me, he tugs on the hem of my shirt, so I sit up just enough for him to lift it over my head. He stares down at me appreciatively before whispering kisses over my stomach.

He makes quick work of the button on my jeans, and I grip the comforter beneath me. Slowly, he tugs on the zipper of my pants and makes a show of pulling it down. I bite my bottom lip as he runs his finger softly along the waistline of my panties.