“Did you? Good for you. Guess what? I don’t care.”
“You do fucking care. You belong to us.”
I snort. “Are you hearing yourself right now?”
“I told you to stay away, and now you’re in it. What happened that night doesn’t matter.”
“Maybe to you.”
“What happened before it does.”
“Let me go.” I try and rip myself away and his hold only tightens.
“You’re hurting me.”
“Then fucking stop it,” he snaps. “Stop.”
I still in his grip, eyes narrowing when his lips curl up in a smirk, pride shining in his eyes. “You’ve come a long way.”
“Is that supposed to be a compliment?”
He presses down on me so his body lines up with mine. I’m bent backward on his window, my head resting on the top of the car. His lips are so close and it’s all I can do to fight the pull, but my memories of that night make it easier.
“What in the hell is wrong with you?”
“You,” he darts his tongue out and licks along my bottom lip. My breath catches as he presses his length along my stomach. “You’re what’s wrong with everything and now…” he shakes his head, “you can’t come between us.”
“Oh, but I did come between you,” I snark. “Twice.”
“Fucking stop it,” he snaps. “I’m trying to explain.”
“With more cryptic bullshit, and I’m over it. You can talk to me when you have something real to say. Even then, I won’t listen. I’m done. Get. Off. Of. Me.”
He grips my head and slams his mouth over mine and I fight, I fight against his kiss, my mouth opening to object as he slips his tongue in. Sparks ignite in my chest as he deepens it to the point I can’t think past our night on the hood of his car, or the day at the lake or any other day of life before him. I rip at his hair, at his chest and neck as he brands me with his mouth, and the violent thrash of his tongue. My emotions go from anger to utter devastation as he pushes every feeling I’m fighting to the surface. He pulls away and presses a soft kiss to my mouth. “I’m sorry. That’s the only real thing I can give you.”
“Why?” I cry out, breathless. “Why?”
“We were trying to make a point, and we fucking failed miserably.”
“You ruined everything,” I’m unable to keep a lone tear from slipping. “I’ll never look at you the same.”
He tracks the tear sliding down my cheek. “I have to let you go for now,” he grimaces, and for the first time since that night we spent alone, his emotion shines through. “But I don’t fucking want to.”
He leans in again and presses a kiss to my forehead before releasing me.
The slash across my chest is enough to have me in full preservation mode. “Stay the fuck away from me.”
“I don’t have a choice. But everything I do now, it’s for you.”
“You’re right. You don’t have a choice. And make no mistake, it’s my decision.”
I stalk back toward my car and tear out of the parking lot, refusing to look back.
When I get home, I take a scalding shower but deny the raging in my chest. I let my tears blend with the water, but refute their existence—my decision.
HALFWAY THROUGH MY FIRST SHIFT back at the plant, I get summoned over the PA system. Pausing our line, I feel the full weight of Melinda’s attention. It’s been hours of working in silence, it seems even she couldn’t ignore my need for solace, and she let me retreat inside myself during this shift, which only further alludes to the fact I look as broken as I feel. I feign ignorance of why I’m being called off the line, but we both know better.
I’m done playing games. I march down the corridor of the first floor into the secluded office at the end of the hall batting away the memories it dredges up—stolen kisses, lingering looks over private lunches, a late shift quickie with his hand clamped over my mouth while he thrust into me, whispering filthy words in my ear. Closing the door, I lean against it and keep my gaze averted. Eyes cast down, his tan boots come into view, and I exhale just as the scent of cedar threatens to cloud my judgment.
“Baby, please look at me.” His voice is hoarse, dragging nails across the rawness in my chest. “Baby, please, please look at me.”
I don’t.
“Cecelia, you are the secret.” This confession demands my attention, and I finally look up. He looks destroyed, his complexion gaunt, dark circles prominent beneath his eyes. I’ve never seen him so distraught. Empathy wins the war with my silent tongue. I love this man, even if falling for him was a mistake.