Taunt Me (Rough Love 2)

“Let go,” I snapped, pushing against him. “I’m not fucking you again.”

His features twisted in irritation. “I thought you weren’t in the escort business anymore, but if you need me to pay you, I’ll pay you. Either way. Whatever will make it happen.”

I lost what remained of my patience and slapped his face twice, way harder and more forcefully than he’d ever slapped mine. I raked his ear with my nails before he caught my hands and held them. I kicked him instead and he tackled me, upended me and covered me on the living room floor.

“I’m not your whore! I don’t want your fucking money.” I writhed under him, trying to free my arms from his grip. The bottom of my robe parted and I could feel his erect cock through the fabric of his pants.

“I can’t fuck you right now,” he said, and I could have sworn he was laughing. “Stop flirting.”

“Get off me,” I shrieked.

Within a second, he was gone. He stood and jumped back, out of kicking distance. I lurched to my feet and fixed my robe, and glared at him as I retreated behind the couch. I started to yell at him again, for him to leave, to get the fuck out, but he held up a hand.

“Don’t scream at me.”

I clasped my hands over my mouth, fighting tears I absolutely would not shed. I stared at the man who’d commandeered so much of my heart, against my will, against my better judgment. He’d consumed so much of my life. I couldn’t let him have any more. Even if, deep down inside, I wanted more.

“I’m not going to scream at you,” I said from between my fingers. “But I need you to go. I really need you to go.”

“Okay,” he said, very calmly and very coolly. “But I need you to comprehend something. You and I are not over.” He walked closer to me. I shook my head and scrambled back until I was trapped against the window.

I stared at his intent expression, his broad shoulders, the ladder of muscles leading up to his chest. I thought of his poetry and the way he’d taken over my body in those hotel rooms. I thought of the pleasure, the longing he planted in me. I thought…maybe…

But no. No, no, no.

“You have to leave.” Tears spilled over, panic in liquid form. What if he stood there forever, looking at me like that, making me want him when I didn’t want to want him? “You left me!” I said. “I wish I’d never met you. I wish you’d leave me alone.”

“Chere—”

“Go away! And if you spy on me, I swear to God, if you look at me through your binoculars or follow me around, I’ll call the fucking police. I’ll report you. I’ll take out a restraining order.”

He held up his hands, his strong, powerful fingers spread wide in protest. “Chere,” he said. “Don’t freak out.” He reached to wipe away some of my tears. “Stop crying. Listen to me.”

I shoved his hand away. “No.”

“You’re overreacting.”

“I want you to go. You’re crazy and scary and controlling.”

“Yes.” I heard his sharp agreement through the frantic whoosh of blood in my ears. “Yes, I’m controlling, but I would never, ever hurt you.”

“Really?” I glared at him in disbelief. “You’d never hurt me? You’re a fucking liar. You left me! After everything, after you took over my heart and my life, and twisted up all my feelings, you left me.” I grasped at my chest. “That hurt me so much. It hurt me way more than you can ever understand. I loved you, but now I hate you. You’ve already hurt me as much as anyone could be hurt, and I survived it. Now I just want you to leave me the fuck alone.”

I stood there clutching my heart, trying to collect myself. I hadn’t meant to reveal so much. I hadn’t meant to give him the pleasure of knowing how deeply he’d injured me. I hadn’t meant to tell him that I loved him. He didn’t deserve to know.

He watched me a moment, then pursed his lips and turned away. “I’ll go get my shirt.”

He put it on, buttoned it up and tucked it in like any normal man. He looked normal, but he wasn’t normal. He wanted too much, demanded too much. Stalked me too much and scared me too much. He gave me orgasms that clouded my reason, but I wasn’t going to let that happen again. He put on his socks and his shoes without a word, gave me another taut glance, and walked to the door.

“Thanks for the fuckfest anyway,” he said. “It was epic.”

The door shut behind him, and he was gone from my life, forever, for the second time.

Shit. The key.

Price

By the time I got home, her drapes were closed, every one of them. I put the binoculars in one of the guest room closets. I wasn’t going to need them anymore.