Addicted to You (Swanson Court 2)

“So what?” he interrupts. “So jealous? But you know exactly how that feels don’t you?” One hand is at my waist pulling me to him while the other pushes between my legs. “This is mine,” he says. “You are mine.” He slides his fingers through the wetness in my core, “and your body knows it.”

I’m ashamed of the pleasure I feel when he touches me. I’m ashamed of how my anger ceases to matter. I should push him away, tell him to go to hell, but his fingers slide into me, and I moan his name. “Landon…” I’m not sure if I want to ask him to stop, or to shut up and fuck me.

“It’s what you want isn’t it? It’s the only reason you ever agreed to be with me.” He lifts me off my feet and carries me to the bed, laying me on my back, my legs spread. “You like how it feels when my cock is deep inside you. That’s what you want.”

He kneels between my legs, quickly undoing his pants and freeing his cock. He’s hard again, his face set. There is no tenderness in what he’s about to do, just pain, jealousy, and anger.

I should correct him, tell him that I’m here because I want to be with him, because I love him.

But I don’t. I can’t. It’s the last shield I have to protect my heart. So I concentrate on how much I want him, because even though he’s the source of the ache in my heart, he’s also the only one who can take it away. He’s like a drug, bad for me in the long run, but the only thing that can make me feel good.

“Yes,” I whisper. “It’s what I want.”

He plunges into my tight core with a deep grunt. He’s hard and hot, and his thrusts are deep and fast, as if he’s working out his feelings by fucking me. My fingers twist in the sheets, all my anger, all my fury coalescing into a need to take what I can from him, to enjoy the pleasure without regret, and it brings me swiftly to a rolling climax.

It’s over quickly for him too. He rolls off me, lying on his back beside me, his breaths coming fast.

I start to get up, but he sits up and reaches for my hand, pulling me back gently to sit beside him. He keeps my hand in his, his fingers wrapping around mine in a way that would feel tender and protective if I wasn’t so sad. “I should have told you about Ava,” he whispers. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think it mattered. I was wrong.”

I raise one shoulder in a small shrug. “It’s okay.”

There is a short silence. “I tried not to care about you and Jack,” he says. “You told me you no longer have feelings for him, I tried to concentrate on that. I... I just couldn’t.”

The same way I’d been trying not to care about Ava. I swallow. “I know how the kiss with Jack would have seemed to you, but it wasn’t what it looked like.”

He lets go of my hand as I get to my feet. His body is hunched over, and I want to reach for him, to hold him maybe, to recapture the feeling of closeness we had a few hours ago.

But I don’t. I leave him sitting there and go to the bathroom to take a shower.

AFTERWARD, we eat in silence. I’ve showered and changed into casual pants and a top. He has also changed into a black long-sleeved tee and light gray pants. It’s testament to how sad I am that I can’t even concentrate on how devastatingly appealing he looks.

We really have nothing to build a relationship on. I see that now. Just sex, and the things we keep from each other. What kind of relationship can we have if we don’t trust each other? If the moments of happiness and intimacy are so soon followed by accusations and pain.

Landon’s brow is furrowed. He looks as troubled as I’m feeling. Our eyes meet, and the helpless somberness in his makes me want to cry. “The gala starts at eight,” he tells me, his voice low.

“I know,” I reply, my own voice small.

“Claude will provide anything you need. Hair, makeup, whatever. He’s already been instructed.”

I don’t reply.

I can feel his eyes on my face. “Aidan will be here. He’s landing in the evening.”

That brings a small smile to my lips. “I’d like to see him,” I say. “What about Jules and Cameron?” I’d enjoyed the company of his friend Cameron McDaniel, and his heavily pregnant wife during my last visit. “Will they come?”

He smiles. “They can’t make it. Jules is expecting any minute.”

I chuckle. “Of course.”

The small talk dries out after that, and after we eat, Landon leaves the suite, going back downstairs to conclude preparations for tonight.

If trying to act like everything was okay had been a drain, being alone is worse.

Are you happy? Jack’s voice whispers in my head.

I am not. The weight of all my chaotic emotions from the past few weeks feels so heavy now. How could I have thought I could bear it? I feel like I’m breaking into pieces, unsure where the real source of my pain is.

He’ll never love me.