‘But …’ I wracked my brain desperately, ‘I have morning breath.’
He lifted his face out of my neck and smiled, the lethal combination of his blue eyes and sexy morning stubble doing a number on my self-control. ‘I like your morning breath,’ he said, kissing me lightly on the lips and back down my neck again.
‘Nobody likes morning breath,’ I told him. ‘It’s gross.’ He started chuckling.
‘Frankie, you can talk through this if you like, but I’d much rather concentrate on what I’m doing,’ he said, working his way down my body.
I shivered and let out a breath. ‘Okay,’ I squeaked, and I let him concentrate on what he was doing.
And just like last night, it was amazing.
When we finally surfaced, and after Tom insisted we shower together (I wasn’t altogether sure the small cubicle could take both of us, but he seemed to be able to find amazing ways to make it work), he sat me down at his kitchen counter and started searching his (mostly bare) cupboards for something to give me for breakfast. I knew the time had come.
We were both fully dressed so my brain was (for the most part) unscrambled and I could think clearly. I needed to do this fast, like ripping off a plaster. Short, sharp pain, then it would be done and I could go back to planning for my ferrets.
I put my black coffee (Tom didn’t have any milk in the fridge) down on the counter and took a deep breath. ‘I don’t think we should see each other any more.’
Tom turned around slowly from his contemplation of the microbiology projects he looked to be conducting in his fridge, and levelled his confused gaze at me. I thought it was supremely unfair that he had to be looking at his most delicious. His hair was still slightly wet from the shower, his old T-shirt was pulled tight across his broad shoulders, and the top button of his faded jeans was undone. It didn’t help that I knew he was going commando, or that he had bare feet. Don’t ask me how feet can be sexy, but I promise you Tom’s were.
‘What is this bullshit now?’ he asked. His tone was amused, like he thought I was kidding around.
‘We can’t see each other any more,’ I repeated. ‘I don’t think that it’s going to work and I think it’s best we end things now.’
Tom’s bemused expression was slowly morphing into one that made me feel slightly scared.
‘What in the fuck are you talking about?’ he said in a low voice.
‘I’ve been thinking and this just … um, just isn’t working for me.’
‘This isn’t working for you?’
‘No.’
‘This isn’t working for you,’ he repeated as a statement in a furious tone, and I thought it best to keep quiet. ‘What exactly is it that isn’t working about this, Frankie?’
‘Well, I …’ I trailed off.
‘Because it seemed to me to be working pretty goddamn well when we made love – what …’ he glanced at his watch, ‘three times in the last eight hours.’
‘Yes, um, well, that was nice but …’
He narrowed his eyes at me. ‘Nice?’
‘Yes, but –’
‘How about the four times you screamed my name, Frankie?’ I felt heat hit my cheeks. ‘Or the two times that you cried in my arms, because you felt how amazing it was between us two.’
‘Look, Tom, it’s not going to work,’ I said, straightening my spine and pushing off the stool, my nose stinging with tears that I absolutely refused to shed. He searched my face and his furious expression softened.
‘What’s got you so scared, baby?’ he asked softly, coming around the counter towards me. ‘You can trust me, Frankie. I won’t hurt you, I promise.’
He couldn’t promise me that. He didn’t know everything about me: if he had done, he’d have run a mile. My life had taught me not to trust empty promises. He was right in my space now, and I held up a hand to ward him off, taking a step back. I knew exactly what I had to do to make him back off.
‘Just leave me alone, okay,’ I said, hardening my voice. ‘I’ve had enough of all your alpha-male bullying crap. I never wanted to be in a relationship with you in the first place and you just forced your way in anyway. You’re a spoiled brat used to getting your own way. Well, you need to get it through your thick stubborn skull thatI don’t want you any more.’ I finished the last few words on a semi-shout and I was breathing hard with the effort of containing my tears.
Tom looked like I had kicked him in the gut for a moment, then his expression hardened. He swept the length of me up and down with his eyes.
‘Fine, Frankie,’ he said in a cold tone, which made my stomach twist. ‘You know, I thought you were worth the effort, but I see now that I was totally wrong. I’m glad I found out what kind of person you are now before I really started caring about you.’
