Honesty. I just have to give her honesty. If I want to make things right, I have to give her the real parts of myself.
“I’m sorry,” I say. To my surprise—judging by the look on her face, hers as well—it comes out sounding genuine. I didn’t think I had it in me. I expected it to sound strained and forced, but I feel rather calm even after the words leave my mouth. “Last night went horribly wrong, and it’s all my fault.”
She steps out into the hall and leans her back against the doorjamb. Her arms are crossed over her chest, and I read her loud and clear. She’s listening, but she doesn’t trust me. I can’t say that I blame her. I’m a dick, and that will never change. I’m going to fuck up. A lot. And if I can get to a point where things might work between us, it’s going to take me a long fucking time to get there.
That last thought has me frozen in place. What the hell am I talking about? What do I mean by suggesting things between us?
I might have to face the fact that there is more between us, but I’m not ready to do it just yet.
I lose my train of thought for a minute as I take her in. Those shorts aren’t doing a thing to hide her thick thighs. Memories flash in my mind without my permission. I can see my hands on those perfect thighs. I can see them jiggle with every thrust.
Damn!
I wouldn’t be surprised if I was drooling. I know my dick is remembering how it felt to be between those thighs.
Like she can read my thoughts, her hip cocks disapprovingly, and I have to shake my head to pull myself back into the moment.
Sometimes her fire is hotter than her body. I’ve never known a woman to stand up to me the way she does. And I can’t say why it gets me so fucking hard.
“It wasn’t a stupid idea,” I say as I remember where I was going. “Having dinner with you, I mean. I was frustrated, and it came out wrong. I’m shit with this kind of thing. This situation is different… new, and I don’t have the first clue about any of… this. Yes, Torrin suggested dinner, but as terrifying as the idea sounded, I wanted to share a meal and get to know you. I just fucked it up.Iwas stupid, not the idea to…” I pause and take in a deep breath. This emotional shit is a lot harder than one would think. I roll my neck and shoulders. “Not the idea of wanting to spend time with you.”
I clear my throat, angry and confused about how I gave away so much. Maybe there’s a part of me that doesn’t understand half of it either.
“I’m not asking for a do-over because I don’t deserve one,” I press on, hating myself for each word that comes out of my mouth. This isn’t me. I don’t fucking bow down. I don’t apologize. And I sure as fuck don’t grovel. “But I would really appreciate it if you’d give me a second chance.” I lift the hand with the to-go bag, which is probably cold by now and won’t help my case as much as I’d hoped when I went out and got it. “I brought you a burger and chicken nuggets. Not a single fruit or vegetable in here, unless you count ketchup, which I don’t.”
She’s silent for a long moment. Her doe eyes are blank like a brick wall I can’t break through.
“Fine,” she says, giving in with a twitch of her lips. “But we need to talk first.”
I quirk a brow but say nothing. Internally, I’m breathing a huge sigh of relief.
“Will you at least eat while we talk?” I don’t know why I care about the damn food so much.
She gestures for me to step into her room. Though she doesn’tsayyes, I smile inside at the obvious victory.
I carry the bags of stuff to the other side of the room, setting everything down on the small coffee table in front of the equally small couch. I unpack everything, if only to have an excuse to give myself a minute to chill the fuck out. Try as I might, my shoulders are stiff as I sit on the couch and face her as she takes the space at the opposite end. The thing is really nothing more than an oversized chair, and as she rests her back against the arm of the couch and pulls her leg up on the cushion, it ends up pressed against my thigh.
She reaches for the container holding her food and smiles when she opens it up. I’m holding my breath as she takes a tentative bite of the burger.
“It’s good,” she says, going in for another bite. It pleases me to see her eating, but that’s a thought I push deep down. “Thanks.”
I hum, not able to speak as I watch her tongue dart out to lick the ketchup off her full bottom lip. I imagine pulling that plump pillow between my teeth. I imagine biting down on it until the smallest of whimpers slips out of her.
Or maybe she’d surprise me with a sexy moan. The thought is almost as delicious as the sound of her pain.
“People talk,” she says, causing my fantasy to pop and a scowl to take over my face. “They talk a lot, actually.”
I make a mental note to ask Andre what stores they went to yesterday and whotalkedto Astra. I will kill them all.
As if she can sense my growing rage inside, she places a calm hand on my arm. Her touch is soft. There’s a warmth that radiates through me, but I can’t explain where the fuck it’s coming from.
I know all the things they told her. All the things I am. Which leaves me wondering why the fuck it matters if she knows. I don’t hide any of it.
I am a fucking monster. A nightmare. I won’t hesitate to kill. Hell, she’s seen what I am, what I can do.
And yet, she’s here, touching me like she doesn’t have the first clue.
My chest tightens.
