“I said I won’t let you go.”
I’ve never seen Cole this unhinged. The way he stares at me from beneath his dark lashes has my pulse quickening. “Please,” I beg, my shoulders slumping. “Let me out.”
When he continues breathing hard, I wince.
I clearly have no choice but to force him out of the way.
Cole grunts when I grip his T-shirt and haul him away from the door. He stumbles back several steps. I’ve never seen him this heartbroken. The sheen in his eyes is one of pure desperation.
I go to open the door, but he tackles me to the floor, and I crash against the fluffy white rug with an “oomph,” staining it red with blood. We’re fighting now. Cole is on top of me, surprisingly strong now that he’s running on pure adrenaline and aggression while desperately trying to secure my wrists. I won’t let him. How the tables have turned. Days ago, it was me who tried to stop him from leaving.
“Fuck,” I grunt, briefly managing to knock him off me. He throws himself at my ankles, and I fall right back down. I kick out at him, and he manages to dampen the force behind the blows by using his weight. He’s a heavy fucker. “What the fuck are you doing?” I growl when he tries to grab my arms again. “Get the fuck off me!”
“Calm the fuck down,” Cole says, his voice strained as he pins me to the floor. I’m on my front with my cheek pressed against the rug. I don’t know how the fuck he does it—and I don’t fucking like it—but he somehow gets the upper hand, trapping my wrists between our bodies, his breath hot on my ear.
“You’re not going anywhere,” he growls, bearing down on me with all his weight until my fight begins to wane. “You and I are not done.”
“Fuck, just let me go,” I plead, choking on what sounds suspiciously like a sob. I’ve been through hell this last week. And when he walked away from that football field—when I saw thelook of pure devastation in his eyes—my heart splintered, and fear clutched at the bruised organ. I can’t go through that again. I can’t keep doing this anymore.
“I told you,” he says as he fists my hair. “I’m not letting you go.”
“Will you at least tell me what I did wrong and why you didn’t want me touching you this week?”
Cole stiffens behind me, and I stare at the closed door, the legs of the vanity table, an abandoned slipper Cole kicked out of the way earlier.
When he speaks, my eyes fall shut as tears threaten to fall. “I know what you did, Blaise. I know you drugged me and filmed me fucking your girlfriend. I know everything.” A heavy exhale fans my ear, and then his weight disappears. He climbs to his feet as though he needs distance from me.
I’ve ruined everything.
Turning my head, I let the rug soak up my tears. I don’t stand up. What’s the fucking point? My chest throbs. I struggle to breathe. Curling in on myself, I grit my teeth and fist my hands. I want to scream. Release a roar and never stop until my lungs are shredded, but I don’t.
“Why would you do something as sick and twisted as that?” he asks behind me, his voice thick with disgust.
The throb in my chest intensifies. I slowly push myself to my feet, feeling broken beyond repair. Every muscle in my body aches, especially my ribs, and I clutch my midriff as I glance at Cole. I’m unable to look him in the eye, so I focus on his throat, seeing it jump when my bottom lip trembles. I open my mouth to speak, to say something, anything. Nothing comes out. What’s there to say? He’s right… I’m sick, twisted, evil. Other people get their happy ending. Not guys like me.
I wet my busted lip, tasting the tangy blood. The door looks inviting right now. It would be so easy to walk out. I try sofucking hard to meet his gaze, but I can’t. I don’t want to see the damage I’ve caused.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, my chin trembling. “I’m sorry I hurt you.”
When Cole remains quiet, I drop my eyes to the floor and nod in defeat. I deserved the beating I received on the football field. “I’ll get out of your way,” I say, my voice cracking. Then I walk away, limping and holding on to my bruised stomach. There’s blood everywhere. I should go to the hospital, but fuck that. I just want to be alone.
The moment I open the door, Cole appears behind me and presses his hand to the wood. It shuts again with a soft click. I wait for him to talk, to chew me out, to tell me how much I disgust him, but he does neither. His breath caresses my nape for endless moments as though he’s warring with himself.
“When I think of you touching anyone else, I want to commit murder,” he whispers, close enough for me to feel his breath against my nape.
“I would never let anyone touch me but you,” I admit, swallowing hard. “You’re the only one I want.”
“Why did you do it?”
Why did I drug him? It all seems so far away, like it happened to someone else in a different lifetime. “I don’t know.”
“Not good enough,” he says and grips my hip.
My hands clench at my sides as my chin meets my chest. “I wanted to bury under your skin, but all along, you were under mine.”
“You made me fuck your girlfriend because you wanted to bury under my skin?”
“I wanted blackmail to use against you after you threatened me. I wanted to take back control. At least that’s what I thought,” I reply, my admittance floating between us. Cole puts his otherhand on my hip, and I tremble beneath his touch. “I was intrigued. That’s why I took it so far.”
