Slow Burn

Chapter 24

I throw my purse on the counter and rest my hip against it, thoroughly exhausted. I’ve yet to recover the sleep I lost from my night spent with Becks out in Ojai or the late-night-into-early-morning phone calls we’ve had the past few days. More time spent getting to know each other. Not that I minded because not sleeping with Becks is such a damn good way to lose sleep. Besides, I’ve been busy humoring him and abiding by his ludicrous and completely back-assward rules. But as ridiculous as they are, they are actually kind of sweet too.

And since we’ve been talking every night, obviously the three-day rule did not apply to phone calls. I can only hope it means tonight I get the push-up-against-the-door wall sex he’d hinted at.

Like the sooner, the better.

Becks has built the anticipation so handily that waiting to get up to my bedroom is not an option.

I grab a drink and head out to the backyard per my usual end-of-day routine, the last rays of the sun calling to me before the night claims them for itself. I sit down in my favored chaise and bring my lemonade up to my lips. My thoughts drift to my time with Maddie this afternoon and how she was so cheerful and genuinely happy and how my heart felt so much better leaving her this time.

I know the grief will always be there for her, a constant, but at the same time, I’m starting to see pieces of the little girl she was a year ago before this nightmare we’re never going to wake from happened. And those glimpses tell me there’s the possibility of so many more just around the corner.

I process a couple random thoughts about work and the last Scandalous party coming up in the next few days. I’m more than satisfied with my job for them and know the message I received earlier this morning about how the higher-ups were raving about the job I’ve been doing boosted my confidence at the possibility of landing them as a client going into this last event.

And then of course my mind wanders to Becks. I don’t even try to fight the smile that graces my lips at the thought of him and everything he’s come to mean to me in such a short amount of time. I mean, if someone would have told me that I’d be falling in love with a man this quickly, I’d have told them they were crazy. But I rationalize and justify that we’ve been friends for more than a year so the transition to falling for each other is not as drastic as it seems.

And hell it feels so damn good. Butterflies in the stomach when my phone rings, staying up all hours of the night on the phone, talking about anything and nothing, just mesmerized by each other’s voices. It’s early yet, I know, and as good as it feels, I’m trying to pace myself, trying to take stock of everything because the fear is still there, still clawing at my psyche. Making its presence known with each thought, with every action so that I second-guess myself, but I’m trying desperately hard to ignore it. Push it down. Keep it at bay.

I close my eyes and lift my face to the sun, settling into the feeling when my phone rings beside me. I fumble for it, keeping my eyes closed, expecting it to be Becks since it’s getting close to his quitting time, and I’m quietly hoping I get to see him tonight. It’s been a few days and that just feels like forever right now when you’re in that getting-to-know-you stage.

“Hello?” The smile is on my face, my ears anticipating the timbre and cadence of his voice, which calls to me on so many levels.

“Ms. Montgomery, please.”

The disembodied monotone of the voice shocks me. “This is she,” I respond, half of me wanting to look at the screen and see who is calling and the other half that has my anxiety ratcheting tells me I’ll find out soon enough. But I already know.

“Hi, Ms. Montgomery. This is Dr. Blakely. How are you doing today?”

The forced cheer in her voice causes the hair on my arms to stand on end. “That depends on what you’re going to tell me.” My voice is a mere whisper over the line.

“Well, I’d like you to come in and have a chat with me.”

The saliva leaves my mouth, and my heart thunders in my ears. I’d like to think the sound prevents me from hearing properly, but I know better than that. I know that good news is given over the phone when test results are all clear, and meetings are scheduled when the results are bad. And regardless of how pleasant Dr. Blakely’s tone is, I can hear it in her voice, can hear the same quality to it as when she spoke to Lexi about her prognosis before shipping her off to the reconstruction specialist and the oncologist.

“Can’t you just tell me over the phone?” I ask, hoping against hope.

“I think it would be best if you came in so we could talk.”

And I know. Right now I know, but I’m still reaching.

“I can come in whenever it fits your schedule,” I tell her, thinking if she puts if off a week or two, I just might be wrong, that the results are nothing to worry about. I’m playing mind games with myself, I know, but I don’t care.

“How about tomorrow afternoon? I have some colleagues stopping by in the morning to meet with me in regard to your file, and so I’d like to speak with you after, if that’s okay? Say three o’clock?”

And the mind games are useless now. Tomorrow screams urgent. Tomorrow tells me cancer.

Tomorrow says Fuck you, Haddie.

I force a swallow down my throat, working to find the words I need to respond. “Okay.” I’m surprised she hears me, my voice is barely audible. I drop the phone and sit there, staring at the sky.

I have cancer. She may not have said the word, but she didn’t have to.

My glass slips from my hand and falls to the ground. I watch the lemonade spill onto the grass and then slowly seep into the earth. Disappear. Gone forever.

Ring around a rosie.

I wonder if it’s cold down there—beneath the surface of the dirt—when they bury your body.

A pocket full of posies.

I fixate on the thought. Wonder if Lexi is cold.

Ashes, ashes, we all fall down.

I close my eyes, unwilling to accept and not wanting to believe that fate has come knocking on my door. So I shut down, welcome the numbness, the disengagement I know is happening from my complete lack of tears and my inability to play the mind games needed to help me deal with the phone call.

I’ll cope tomorrow. Right now I just want to shut the world out.

Time passes. I hear car doors slam as neighbors come home from work. I hear mothers calling their kids inside for dinner. The night fades and eats up any sign of light until it’s completely smothered. Street lights flicker to life.

And yet I sit here. Not wanting to move. Not caring if I ever do because that means tomorrow is closer, and I don’t want tomorrow to come.

My phone rings and alerts me to texts but it sits on the table where I dropped it, and I don’t have enough energy to pick it up, even if I wanted to. Which I don’t.

I’m so cold, despite the warm night air. My soul is chilled, and my thoughts are frozen, obsessed with replaying the doctor’s words over and over in my head.

“Hey.” The voice from behind me startles me, despite my having known somehow he would find me. I squeeze my eyes shut, expecting the onslaught of emotion to come, to overwhelm, to break me down, and yet nothing does. Abso-fucking-lutely nothing. Feelings, emotions, reactions are so dull, so nonexistent, I should be scared, but I’m not. I wait for the butterflies, for the ache in my heart and the tingle between my thighs at the voice that riles them up, but they’re not there.

Because I feel nothing.

“Your car was in the driveway. I kept calling your cell, and you didn’t answer, but I heard it ringing back here, so I came in through the gate,” he explains, his voice becoming louder as he nears me.

I look straight ahead and murmur incoherently at him as his footsteps continue to grow closer. Once his body is beside mine, it takes everything I have to scrape together some semblance of a smile and force my head to angle up to meet his. “Hey.”

He sees it immediately. I know he can see the emotions warring within me, but he recovers quickly, eyebrows drawn together as he studies me. “Everything okay?” he asks as he lowers himself to the chaise, his hip pushing my legs over so he has room.

Am I okay? Ha. I want to laugh at the question. “Hmm,” I say in response.

He reaches out and cups the side of my face, his thumb rubbing over my cheek in that way that usually makes me melt, but I remain unresponsive in every way. “Everything okay with Maddie?” I nod my head, knowing he’s searching for a reason for my silence. “Did the doctor call? Any news?”

I can hear the concern tingeing the edges of the question, and it’s truth-or-dare time for me: lie to protect him or tell him the truth and test the promises he made at the farm. I teeter on that fine edge of my moral compass, but then my split-second decision is one I think I made the moment I received the call.

“No, not yet. She called to tell me something’s held up at the lab, but in relooking at my scans, she’s not too worried.” The lies roll off my tongue just as easily as the relief they cause makes his posture sag.

I’m going to hell. I just lied to Becks. I’m going to hell, and I deserve it. Every damn lick of fire against my flesh, I deserve.

Then the panic hits me. I shift to place my hands under my thighs so that he can’t see them tremor with the adrenaline coursing through my system. My mind spins in an eddy of fucked-up thoughts, and as each one whips out of the whirlpool and hits my conscience, I feel worse with each passing second.

I should confess, make things right. I know I should, but the words don’t come off my tongue because images of Lexi and Danny and Maddie hop on the eddy, collide with every truth I should reveal, and knock them down.

“Haddie?” I’m brought back to the present when Becks says my name again, and I try to focus on him through the tears that don’t even well, but that burn like hell. Hmpf, like hell—that’s rather fitting and deserving.

“I …” I don’t know where to go with this conversation, which path to take to gain some distance so I can process everything without the pressure of what it will do to everyone else. I think of the heavy knowledge so apparent in Lexi’s lively eyes. Her awareness of what she was leaving behind for us to deal with.

I have three options now: Hurt him so badly that I push him away and gain some distance, fess up to the lie and ask for some space, or beg him to make me feel to see if it’s even possible or if I’m already dead inside.

I stare at him, his blue eyes radiating concern as he grants me patience to figure out the words I need to say. And I’m not ready to talk yet.

I reach out without thought and pull his mouth to mine, desperation emanating off me, causing it to crash into him and take hold. If I’m going to Hell, I might as well get a piece of Heaven first. And fuck yes, this makes me the most selfish woman on the face of the earth, but I can’t make a decision yet, can’t voice my feelings yet, so I give into the greed and take.

Within seconds of our mouths clashing together, between a shocked gasp from Becks and his rush to take what I’m offering, I already have my hands on his zipper and am pulling his thickening cock from his trousers.

“Had—what—wait—are—”

“Shh. No talking, just fucking, okay? It’s day three.” I retrieve the excuse, hoping he’ll just go with it and not question me any further.

I feel the hesitancy in his lips, his mind trying to scramble and catch up to how he’s already hard and ready in my hand. Our mouths remain savage on each other’s, teeth scrape, tug, and I suck on his tongue, earning me a strangled groan that lets me know he’s ready for what I’m striving for: complete mental obliteration.

I shift my positioning and slide off the chaise, leaning over not to break the connection. His hands meet mine as we both work at the buttons on my shorts, shoving them with my panties down to the ground so that I can step out of them. Now free of his undressing job, his hand finds its way back between my thighs, parting my folds, testing my readiness, but I dance backward from the V of his thighs before he can find his purchase.

I don’t deserve this consideration from him, don’t deserve anything from him since I’m giving him nothing in return. I turn abruptly around so that I straddle his legs where he sits on the edge of the lounger, my back to his front. I can’t bring myself to watch him as I do this—use him—and he sure as hell doesn’t need to see the tears that threaten to fill my eyes with each passing second.

I reach down between my legs, and Becks sucks in a breath as I grip his erection in my hand and position it at my entrance. I rub the crest back and forth a couple times over my seam to wet it and then, without giving him a moment to ready himself, slam my hips down hard and fast, sheathing him in one slick movement.

His groan fills the night air around us, our bodies shrouded from the view of neighbors by the night sky and overhanging tree branches. I don’t even give him a moment to sink into the sensation before I am on the move. I’m not fully ready for him, so my muscles stretch and skin burns at the friction as my body catches up to my running thoughts and urges.

But that makes me feel. It means I’m not completely numb. As fucked-up as it is, I welcome the pain as a punishment for the lie and for what I ultimately know I’m going to do.

I slide up and down Becks’s cock at a fervent pace, never giving him a moment to think or a chance to resist. I need to control this right now, him right now, because I can’t control anything else, and that fear is eating me alive right alongside the guilt. So I own him, own the moment, all the while hating myself.

I bring him to his orgasm at a rapid speed, the friction and vigor helping him light the fuse for his detonation. He comes with such violence, I can hear it in his cry, feel it in the muscles of his thighs locking tight and how his fingers dig into my hips.

“Holy shit,” he says when he’s finally caught his breath. He wraps his arms around me and presses his forehead against the line of my spine as he comes down from his orgasmic haze. “What in the hell was that?” His tone is one of shocked satisfaction, and I bite my lower lip to hold back the sob that catches in my throat.

“I think you should go now.” The evenness to my tone scares me. I feel his body jolt from my words. His chest, which was heaving against my back, stills, and the evidence from our union starts to seep out of me.

“What?”

I give him credit for remaining calm but almost wish he’d be angry because that’s easier to hold on to, to feed off of.

“You mind telling me what the fuck this is all about?”

I rise from his lap and collect my shorts and panties from the ground where they sit beside my empty lemonade glass. I use my underwear to clean myself up and then toss them to him to use without meeting his eyes. I notice them land on the chaise beside him without him so much as reaching for them.

“Suit yourself,” I mutter as I pull my shorts up, my motions on autopilot once again. “You can see yourself out,” I say as I start walking toward the house.

Within a flash, I’m being spun around to face the wrath of Becks. He tries to talk, but every word gets overlapped by the one before it as confusion wins the war over his emotions. “I’m lost here,” he finally gets out, his expression matching his words. “Do you mind telling me what the fuck is going on here? I’m a patient man, but hell if you’re not testing that right now with whatever game you’re playing.”

Our eyes remain locked, except the darkness around us allows me to keep the secrets hidden so that he can’t see the truths I’m protecting. “No game, Becks.” I shake my head and clear my throat to try to gain some conviction in my tone to reinforce the mistruth. “I think we’re moving way too fast, and I don’t really need this added stress in my life right now.”

“Come again?” His voice rises as he takes a step closer, jaw tensing and head shaking. “Did you not just ride me? That sure as hell isn’t the action of a woman trying to distance herself.”

“Think of it as a parting gift.” I instantly regret the flippant comment when I see him wince in reaction. The escalator to hell is only getting faster right now as I pile lie upon lie, hurt upon hurt.

“A parting gift?” He emits a sliver of a laugh laced with derision. “I’m trying really hard right now to make sense of this, how we went from orgasm to mindfuck, and I’m drawing a blank.” I clench my fists to combat the hurt in his eyes piercing my heart. “Did I do something wrong? Is there something you’re not telling me? Did Dante finally wear you down? What?”

And with that comment, Becks unknowingly opens the gates of Hell for me to walk through. I grab on and run with it, own it as if it were the truth. Anything to push him away right now, give me time to think. It’s so much easier to hurt him this way than it would be with all of the crap that cancer brings with it.

He asked me for a day at the farm. One day just to let him show me how good we could be together. I gave him that day and then some. But now I can’t give him anymore with all of this hanging over my head. God, yes, it has been so good, but he doesn’t deserve to deal with this disease. Hell, I don’t deserve to. It’s just so much easier to cut ties now than to drag him behind me with ropes of obligation binding us together.

“Yes.” My voice breaks with the single word. I clear my throat. “Yes, Dante and I had a heart-to-heart earlier today. We’re going to work things out. You know he’s more my type than you are, so it shouldn’t surprise you that I choose him.”

The expression on Becks’s face reflects a man who’s gone nine rounds in the ring as my words punch him. I can see him try to process what I’ve just said, see him try to acknowledge it, but the acceptance never comes.

Our eyes don’t waver from each other’s as he steps forward and raises both hands to frame my face so that I’m unable to look away. “I don’t know what the hell is going on, Montgomery. I have no fucking clue. You want space? Fine, I’ll give you space, but don’t for one second think I’m buying the fact that you choose that douche bag over me.” He exhales a broken breath as he figures out the rest of what he wants to say. My heart thunders in my ears, and my own breath is just as uneven as his but for the opposite reason. “I’m going to leave right now. I’m going to walk out that door and give you some time to figure out whatever the shit is in your head, but I don’t want it mistaken for a single second that I’m walking away from you.” He squeezes his eyes shut momentarily before opening them back up and the clarity in them has me feeling like he’s seeing into my soul. “I don’t walk away from the people I love without a fight, and damn it to hell, Haddie Montgomery, you’d better prepare for that fight because I’m in love with you.”

My mouth drops open from his unexpected confession, and I can’t even try to wrap my head around it because Becks’s lips are on mine, clearly driven by the emotion of his statement. It’s a short but holy-mother-of-hell kiss that leaves me breathless when he drags his mouth from mine.

And when we separate, he doesn’t meet my eyes. He steps back and turns on his heel without another word, and walks into the house, slamming the front door behind him, the sound so loud, I hear it where I remain rooted in disbelieving shock.

The chills come, my body trembles with the truth just laid at my feet, and my heart tears in two from hurting him and letting him walk away without making a concerted effort to fight for him.

I know I have a bigger fight ahead of me. A fight I don’t want to drag someone else through.

Holy fuck.

He loves me. The damn wildflower was right after all.

I’m not sure how long I sit out in the cocooning darkness and silence of the night, using the still to quiet the self-inflicted riot of emotions in my head before I shove myself up and move inside. I go through the motions of washing my glass, straightening up. I’m bending over, putting a bowl away in the lower cabinets when Dante’s voice startles me.

“Fuck me, Haddie. You can’t tempt a man like this and expect him to walk away without a taste. Or a fight.”

I scramble to stand up and shut the cabinet, my mind registering Dante’s words but thinking that Becks could be saying them just as easily to me. I flash my eyes up to find him leaning against the wall, his shirt off, a beer in one hand, and irritated disgust evident in his expression. The comebacks are firing through my brain, but I hold them back, trying to keep from fueling the temper I know he has when he drinks.

And a drunk Dante is an unpredictable Dante. This I know from experience, so I remain silent.

“So nice of you to finally come inside after your little fuck in the backyard,” he says, sarcasm dripping from his slurred words. “It seems to me you’re really walking on the wild side these days, babe.”

“Dante.” I nod my head, my voice even, and stand to full height when I finally speak to him.

“Dante,” he mimics me with a laugh that’s anything but warm. “Really, babe? Gonna be all frigid with me when an hour ago you were being fucked in the backyard by that guy?” He walks toward me in an unsteady swagger, judgment in his eyes. “What happened to the wild child I used to know? The ‘throw caution to the wind, willing to screw anytime and anywhere’ girl I dated? The one I matched dare for dare?” He stops, takes a sip, and chuckles. “You’re too good to settle, Haddie. A three-minute fuck in the backyard with that asshole tells me you are most definitely settling.”

“Fuck you.” The words are out of my mouth without a thought. How dare he come at me, telling me I’m settling when all I can think about is Becks: what I just did to him, how I hurt him, and the confession he left me with?

… you’d better prepare for that fight because I’m in love with you …

The pain is sharp and lingering, and then it registers that Dante was here when Becks and I were outside.

I was so wrapped up in everything that I never even thought about him coming home. All I could think about was pushing it all away, losing myself, and not once did I think about Dante. Being home. Having a spectator.

Fuck a duck.

My eyes flash up to his, and he sees that I realize I had an audience when I was outside. “Yep.” He nods his head. “I came home in the middle of the action. Sorry, but no man is going to pass up watching a porno going on in his backyard.” He takes a step closer to me as my anger bristles from the invasion of my privacy.

Yes, I had sex outside, but it was in my backyard, and the only line of sight we were in was from my own house. If it was in any other capacity, I might actually be turned on from the idea of being watched, but Dante’s disdainful approach is making me ill at ease. I curse myself for my carelessness.

“Don’t worry. I didn’t watch for long. Just enough to remind me how fucking hot you are …” My teeth grit when he chuckles again. “Fuck, babe, you gave me a stellar visual. Do you have any clue how fucking hard that made me? A man’s gotta get off, and, God,” he groans as his free hand cups his crotch and adjusts himself, “I could really use the help since you’re standing there like a goddamn vacant motel room waiting to get occupied.”

Is he fucking serious? I may be overwhelmed with everything, but I’m not stupid enough to fall for this. And as much as I hate his comment, I also welcome the fire it sparks inside of me.

Hell if I’m not looking for a good fight right now. Anything to occupy my mind and push away everything from the day.

Bring it on.

“Sorry, but this isn’t the Sleazy 8 Motel you’re used to. I don’t rent my room by the hour.”

“Oh, now, there you go, insulting me when you know damn fucking well that I last much more than an hour when I’m renting your room out.” He winks at me with a lopsided grin as he enters the kitchen and pulls another beer from the refrigerator. The hiss of the top coming off fills the silence between us.

“No vacancy. Not now. Not ever.” I quirk an eyebrow at him, knowing damn well our playful banter has the possibility of turning ugly real quick when it comes to Dante.

His grin is slow and arrogant, eyebrows raised, eyes taunting me. “Mm-mm-mm. We’ll just have to see about that,” he says, taking another step closer and concentrating on what to say next. “He doesn’t deserve you, Had. He isn’t what you need. Look how fast he bailed after he fucked you … or I should say, you fucked him. Man, you ride a mean cock.” He winks at me as he reaches down to adjust himself, and I watch him, study him, to try to see if he’s joking here or if asshole-I’ve-been-drinking Dante is about to make an appearance.

He lifts his beer to his lips and downs it in one long swallow, all the while his eyes remain on me. He sets the bottle down with force, the sound echoing through the room, before he closes the final space between us so that he’s standing well inside my personal space.

Warning bells ring softly in the back of my head, but I shake them off. I’ve been here with Dante before, know I can handle him. Nothing a swift knee to the crotch to prove a point can’t fix since he’s most likely drunk enough that his reflexes are delayed.

“Well, I’m glad I could provide this evening’s entertainment for you,” I say, trying to defuse the situation. And then I say to myself, “Fuck it.” He most definitely was an asshole for watching us, for taunting me over it. “It’s interesting, though, that you’re so full of criticism, and yet you hid inside, instead of coming out and proving just how much better you are than Becks. You tell me I’m not the same girl you used to know, but I’m thinking you’re not the same guy, either.” I love watching the irritation settle over his features as he tries not to react to my goading. “It’s called growing up, in case you haven’t reached that phase yet.”

I take a step to the right, but his hand flashes out and grips my upper arm. He steps into me, his alcohol-laced breath hitting the side of my cheek as I stare straight ahead instead of turning my head to meet his eyes.

“You have no business being with him.” He grates the words out.

“Well, here’s where you realize that I don’t give a flying fuck what you think. It’s none of your goddamn business how I live my life and what I’m doing. You lost that right when you walked out, leaving me high and dry. I thought we’d already established this fact, no?”

“It’s not my business, but it’s everyone else’s in the neighborhood’s who can hear you making him come in your backyard? C’mon, Had, I deserve better than that.” He presses his body up against mine, but unlike with Becks, I feel absolutely nothing.

“Let go.” I snap the words out, liking the predicament less and less by the moment. I try to shrug out of his grasp and find myself pushed against the wall with some force.

“Uh-uh,” he grunts from the motion, his face closing in on mine again until his mouth is at my ear and his body is flanking mine. “Since you seem to be handing it out like it’s free, I might as well get my piece of your pie.”

Warning bells sound louder now, and I’m trying hard to keep the panic from reaching my eyes. But I’ve got my wits about me enough to know that I’m alone in my house with a man who can clearly overpower me, so as much as I want to make my move right now, I need to make sure I time it perfectly. The unease I feel tickling at the base of my neck tells me I might only get one shot at this.

“Have another beer and keep dreaming and it might happen in like … hmm … never.” I laugh at the words, trying to portray confidence that I don’t really have. I ignore his last comment, not wanting to get into any discussion about what he wants from me with our bodies pressed against each other’s.

“Oh, sweet Haddie,” he murmurs, causing my breath to hitch at Becks’s pet name for me. “What? It’s okay for him to call you that but not me?” He reaches up to trail a finger down my cheek. I fight the shiver of revulsion that courses through me from his unwanted and intrinsically intimate touch. “C’mon … let’s quit dancing around this—you leading me on, turning me on, kissing me, then pushing me away. I mean, shit, I’ve always appreciated a chick that’s hard to get, but it’s not like I haven’t had you before, right? So why the game, babe? Because I’m done playing it and ready to take what I came here for.”

His comment confuses me, until the myriad feelings inside me collide with one another, until they vaguely start to make sense to me. Startled, I drop my head back and meet his eyes for the first time when the realization hits me. Am I that fucking dumb? Have I been so preoccupied with Becks and then the test and the biopsy results that I didn’t see it all along? And then add to that that the few times Dante and I kissed I was unknowingly fanning the flames of his reason for coming back here: to get back together with me.

If he had shown up like this months ago, I probably would have brushed his mistakes under the rug and given him a second chance. But now—now there’s Becks. And whatever it is we are, I know it feels like it has the potential to be a hell of a lot stronger than what Dante and I were.

The sound of Dante sucking in his breath pulls me back to the present, where the expectant look on his face tells me he’s dead serious.

There will be no taking of anything from me unless it’s my fist in his face.

“Dante, I think it’s time for you to leave.” My pulse begins to pound in my ears now as he stares at me, jaw clenched, eyes boring into mine, and the muscles of his shoulders and neck rigid with tension. I watch indecision flicker through them as I try to keep my breath even and body language nondefensive.

“Just like that, huh?” The derision lacing his voice is almost tangible. “I think it’s only fair that I get a fighting chance. You’ve fucked him. Now, you’ll fuck me, and then you can make an educated decision as to who makes you come harder. Simple as that.”

I struggle with the right words to tell him he’s high as a kite if he thinks I’m having sex with him. Even if I’d wanted to, the oh so romantic way he just informed me I was going to fuck him would have had me locking down my crotch like a bank vault.

“You’ve got another think coming if you think that fancy line’s going to work on me, Teller.” I try to keep my warning light, joking, but I let him know I’m not game with his plan.

He laughs low and soft again, and there’s just enough edge to it that my throat constricts as I try to swallow. “I think you misunderstand me. I’m not asking you to fuck me. I’m telling you you’re going to. No one turns me down, least of all you….” His voice trails off as he digs his fingers a bit tighter on my arms and leans in so his lips brush over my ear. My nerves are invigorated by his words, my eyes flickering over the room, looking at the dish on the table a few feet from me where my cell sits, beside a vase and my keys. “I’ve been more than patient as you’ve led me on, teased me, taunted me, all the while getting off with him. Well, now it’s my turn to have my say.”

“Well, if this is your way of having your say, you’re going about it all wrong, Dante. Thanks, but no, thanks.”

My well of emotions has run empty, and so I meet him stare for stare, refuse to back down because fuck if I’m going to let him push me around. He can take the first flight to hell before I’d willingly hop into bed with him.

His hand on my arm flexes as he attempts to deal with the rejection. He goes to speak and then stops, does it again, and then before I can react, his mouth is on mine.

I don’t even let the shock register before I’m shoving against him, my knee coming up and making contact. He grunts when I connect, his lips off mine as he doubles over in pain, the sound of his misery filling the house. I think I hear son of a bitch or maybe him calling me a bitch. I don’t know, and I don’t care because that pull of Dante Teller that’s always been irrefutable to me is no more.

All I see now is a manipulative prick who didn’t have the balls just to come out and tell me he wanted me back. And then went about trying to prove his point in completely the wrong way. Force? Is he fucking kidding me? Who is this man?

Being a badass is one thing. Being an asshole is another.

I rush to the table and grab the phone, my fingers dialing without thought. “Please leave Dante or I’m pushing SEND right now on nine-one-one.”

He looks up at me, face red, teeth clenched, but disbelief still in his bloodshot eyes. I know he’s had run-ins with the law before, and this is the last thing he’d want. I step forward and pick his keys up from the hall table and take my house key off the ring before throwing them at him. They hit his shoulder and fall to the ground as he keeps groaning.

“Get out!” I scream at him as the adrenaline starts to fire now that I’m away from him and can physically react to the threats he threw at me.

He grabs his keys with one hand, his other still on his crotch. It takes a minute, but he hobbles to the front door and fumbles with the handle for a moment before opening it up.

“I’ll have your shit on the porch later tonight for you to collect.”

As he walks out, I hear my name as a murmur on his lips, and his tone sounds almost apologetic. A little too fucking late for that. I know he cares about me, know we had something once, but anything there could have been, he just killed by trying to force himself on me, and I think he knows it.

His lack of a fight tells me.

He tries to straighten up, his eyes meeting mine, and I see the apology there, but I don’t say another word as I slam the door shut and flip the dead bolt. The minute it’s closed, I sag with my back against the door, my body shaking so badly, I slide down until I’m sitting on the floor.

I sit there for some time, so many emotions ebbing and flowing that by the time I bring myself to get up, I’m spent emotionally and physically. I drop the phone from my hand and realize that my other is unknowingly and out of habit examining the breast opposite it.

It always comes back to this. No matter how perfect or how imperfect the person or the situation in my life, at the end of the day, the fate I’m waiting to be dealt is still there, hanging over my head.