揧ou can抰 fault me for misunderstanding,?I whisper, and I抦 suddenly so very, very tired. Tired of worrying, tired of hurting, tired of thinking I need to protect myself from everything.
揝o you decided you抎 fuck someone to get even??he demands.
My head jerks upward. What? 揊or Christ抯 sake. I met him for coffee and we walked down to the bookstore.?I抦 angry that he抎 even think I could do something like that, but then again, why wouldn抰 he? I thought it of him, and he wasn抰 the one refusing to admit we were in a relationship.
In his shoes, I抎 have thought the same thing. I抎 have thought worse.
He steps forward, still livid. His hand curves around my neck, tangling in my hair, tilting my face to his. 揂nd did you like him? Did he kiss you??
My heart thuds in my chest. I wonder what he抎 do if I said, 搚es.?I抦 tempted to lie and say I did, because this is all fucked up and I don抰 ever want to live through another forty-eight hours like the ones that just passed.
揧ou want the truth??I demand. 揌e was a farmer, and sweet, and he should have been perfect for me. But I was bored out of my fucking mind. So you were right. Are you happy now??
揇id. He. Kiss. You??he demands.
揙f course not!?I shout. 揥hy are you so obsess棓
His mouth comes down on mine, hard and fast. Angry, demanding.
I don抰 let myself think about what this means. I just give in.
His hands go to my jeans, and he flips the button and shoves them down. 揟ake them off. Take it all off,?he growls.
I kick off the jeans while he pulls his shirt over his head and lets it fall to the floor. His hands grip my hips, and he walks me backward to the couch, where he pushes me flat, spreading my thighs as he climbs between them. He抯 forcing me to give up control, and I both hate and love how turned on I am by this桰抦 soaked and he hasn抰 even touched me. He undoes his pants and shoves them down to mid-thigh before he leans over, grabbing each wrist and holding them above my head with one hand in a punishing grip.
I shiver in anticipation as he grasps himself, his eyes on my face as he pushes inside me協or once without a condom. I should resent it, but instead, desire unfurls in my core at the way he is taking without asking.
The sex is harder and faster than normal. For once, he is not concerned about me coming first. I get the feeling he might enjoy making me do without. It抯 selfish and indulgent and so fucking hot梙is recklessness, his quiet groans, the desperate way he moves inside me, his free hand sliding from my breasts and downward, as if he wants to be everywhere at once.
I try to arch, and he presses his weight down, immobilizing me as he pistons in and out. I should hate this. I should. But I抦 already close.
揌oly shit, Ben,?I beg, breathlessly. 揝low down.?
揓esus,?he says, nostrils flaring as he looks at me. 揧ou fucking love this, don抰 you? Admit you love being held down and fucked.?
I do, but I抦 not about to give in that easily. 揘ot as much as you love doing it.?
揑抦 so goddamn close,?he says. 揔eep running that smart mouth. Maybe I抣l just go ahead and come, and let you wait until later.?
I can抰。 I can抰 let him do it. I抦 so close. 揑 love it.?
His grip tightens around my wrists and a jolt of pleasure shoots through me. With his free hand he pulls up my knee, changes the angle, hitting the right spot.
揙h, God,?I gasp, feeling my stomach tighten, and he grabs my hair tight in his fist.
揘o more dates,?he growls in my ear, and I explode, crying out. 揊uck,?he hisses, thrusting faster and faster as he starts to come. 揊uck.?
I shift, and he presses harder, breathing heavy. 揝tay like that. Just stay. I抦 not done.?
He抯 still inside me, still pulsing softly. Once, twice, three times. In a minute he抯 every bit as hard as he was. He sits up, still inside me, and his gaze holds mine.
揂re we clear now??he asks. 揧ou抳e got to stop assuming the worst of me all the time, Gemma.?
揧es,?I whisper. I want it to be true, but I抦 not sure it is.
Because the problem with telling yourself to ignore that voice in your head梩he one that sees danger everywhere梚s that sometimes that voice is absolutely right.
40
My graduation from law school was full of smiling faces, but none of them were there for me. I didn抰 invite my father, and my mother couldn抰 afford to fly out. All my friends were at Stadler, and I抎 seen little of them since I started dating Kyle, who was in the middle of a trial back in New York.
I抳e never felt more alone than I did on that stage, knowing not a single person was there to see me or knew who I was.
Kyle sent roses, and though he hated to text, that night he sent a picture of him and his daughter with ice cream cones in hand. Kyle: Me and Izzy are celebrating your graduation. We抮e proud of you.