Chapter 6 LIQUID DESIRE

ADRIANNA

CHAPTER SIX

LIQUID DESIRE

"Wow," I whispered. "It's a great view."

"See? I thought you'd like it." His hand trailed over mine, leaving little circle eights behind in its wake. "It'll only get better."

"Why are you like this?" I asked, my voice hoarse. I couldn't look at him, but I didn't move away. I'd always loved the things that were bad for me.

"Like what?" he asked looking off at the edge of the cliff, the sun glistening on his exposed skin.

"Decent when I want nothing to do with you." I said hating how my voice went soft all of a sudden

"Hate and love are easy emotions to feel. They're powerful. It's indifference you have to fight for," he said, gripping my chin and turning me to face him. "Not caring about someone would mean forgetting them, and we both know that neither of us are forgettable."

For just a moment, my fingers ached to thread up through his hair. My mind replayed past memories. Simpler times. My body remembered those lost hours. But my heart snagged on the rips he'd added to the shredded mess. It was a mystery how it still beat with all the damage it had sustained.

"I wish I could forget you," I told him, not caring how harsh I sounded. He deserved that for how thoroughly he broke my heart.

But, like usual, he just laughed and faced forward once more. He didn't take my anger seriously. I never knew if it was the buzz or if he truly didn't care.

"No, you don't."

I didn't contradict him. I just huffed as I faced the horizon and watched the sun set on my first day newly single. There was nothing like a Lubbock sunset. Streaks of pink and orange and gold painted the sky like a watercolor, bleeding into the sky. The scene reminded me of a postcard-fake and full of hope.

And, for the first time in weeks, my fingers itched for my charcoals. I'd thought, when I was younger, that I would be this incredible painter, full of life and color. Then, I'd grown up. I'd realized bright colors were for other people, and shades of gray were more my speed. It wasn't often I was inspired to pick them up anymore. They brought back too many memories.

"You have that look about you," Jackson said.

I'd been so focused on what the scene below me would look like on paper that I hadn't even realized he'd been staring at me.

"What look?" I asked my brows furrowed in confusion.

"Like you're going to draw me like one of your French girls." he said not looking at me.

"Ugh! I regret the day I showed you my drawings." I said groaning out loud.

"Why? You're an artist." he said rolling his eyes at me. He could be so dramatic at times.

"I am not an artist" i said, shaking my head. "That's reserved for people who, one, have any talent and, two, are professionals. I sometimes draw on the side when the mood strikes." I said looking right into his eyes.

"Like right now?" He asked eyebrows raised, a little smile on his lips.

"Maybe." I said shrugging casually.

"I knew it," he said with triumph. "I thought the sunset would do it."

I narrowed my eyes. "How did you know that?"

"You like beautiful things," he said, gesturing to himself.

I snorted. What an arrogant jackass!

"Whatever, Jackson."

I turned back to face the sunset. He was kind of right. I did love beautiful things. Colorful sunsets and raw emotions and crashing waves and crinkled eyes from laughter and big heaving clouds. I spent so much of my life away from all those things that, when I could soak them up, I became a sponge.

Like right now.

I bathed in the twilight and reveled in the richness of the moment.

Even if it was with Jackson.

We sat there in silence for a few minutes, just watching the colors kaleidoscope the sky. It was companionable.It was surprisingly comfortable and nice.I'd forgotten how easy it was to be with him. We were better when we weren't yelling at each other. It just didn't happen often.

Jackson's arm swept across my shoulders and gently pulled me into him. I wanted to bite his head off for touching me after just telling him not to, but I didn't. Sometimes, it was easier. I'd just gone through a breakup. A little comfort, even from someone who drove me up the wall, wasn't the worst thing.

I guess. Right?

"Anna?"

I gritted my teeth and sighed in frustration. "I said-"

"Right. Fuck. Habits, babe."

"Why the fuck am I even here you with you?" I asked, straightening again.

His hand snaked up my neck before threading through my long red hair. "You know why."

"Honestly, no."

He laughed, as if I were joking. But I wasn't. Not entirely. My brain was telling me a whole other reason for being here than my body. My body wanted another taste. My brain knew it was a bad idea. Curiosity had won out, but still, this wasn't smart.

Our eyes met across the small distance, and my brain suddenly stilled. Fuck, that face and those eyes and that mouth. Possessive and commanding. Even when both of those qualities drove me mad, they filled me with desire.

A breath passed between us before he pressed forward and slanted his mouth against mine.

When we spoke, we mixed about as well as oil and water, but our bodies were another story. We were the ocean waves, destined to crash together.