Still.
Still!
It’s disheartening.
When Colton’s tongue darts out to moisten his lips, my core clenches in response. I’m like one of Pavlov’s dogs salivating at the dinner bell. The amount of pleasure he was capable of giving with that mouth...
My guess is that he took the year I was gone to further hone those skills.
That disturbing thought is like a bucket of frigid water dumped all over my libido.
“Isn’t it possible for us to sit down and hash this out?” He tugs me closer, reeling me toward him. “What I did to you was wrong. Give me a chance to explain what was going on inside my head.”
Explain?
Ha!
I have zero interest in hearing any of his lame-ass excuses.
My gaze drops to his fingers. It feels as if the imprint of them is being singed into my flesh. I don’t understand how I can still have feelings for someone who threw away our relationship like it was nothing more than a dirty Kleenex. I need to cut this off at the knees. I’m all too aware that an innocent conversation with Colton has the potential to lead to other things, and I can’t take a chance of getting sucked back into his orbit.
“There’s nothing for us to discuss. You broke up with me sophomore year.” I throw in a careless shrug, wanting him to think that I’m indifferent. “We’ve both moved on.”
If only that were true.
Emotion flares to life in his eyes. He drags me so close that I have to crane my neck in order to meet his gaze. “You sure about that?” Tension ratches up in the air. “Because it kind of feels like we might have some unfinished business to take care of.”
“You’re mistaken. There is absolutely nothing between us.” I gulp down the rising turmoil attempting to break loose inside me. “You made damned sure of that.”
A soft puff of breath leaves his lips as sorrow wells in his eyes. “I’m sorry, Lys. I got scared and hurt the one person I shouldn’t have.”
No, no, no.
I refuse to listen to his bullshit. More than that, I won’t allow him to burrow beneath my skin again. He had his chance, and he blew it.
It takes all of my strength to twist out of his hold. Relief floods through me when his hand falls away, sinking back to his side. Aware of his ability to spring forward and detain me at any moment, I take a hasty step in retreat. When he remains still, eyes locked on me, I take another. And then a third. The more distance I put between us, the better off I’ll be.
“It doesn’t matter. None of it does.” Even though my whispered words are drowned out by the music and chatter that surrounds us, I know he hears them loud and clear. I see it in the sadness that flickers across his expression.
Before he can take up any more of my time, I swing around, shoving my way through the thick press of bodies. I need to get as far away from Colton Montgomery as possible.
But will it be enough?
Somehow, I don’t think so.
Chapter Eighteen
Colton
That went about as well as I expected it to—straight down the tubes.
Although, she didn’t lose her shit like the other day, so I guess that’s progress.
If I had any brains whatsoever, I’d chalk this endeavor up as a lost cause and walk away before I make matters any worse. Hell, had I been thinking clearly, I wouldn’t have crashed her party in the first place. I’d leave the past where it belongs and allow Alyssa to move on with her life which is what she insists she’s trying to do.
But I can’t. Not when I sense that buried beneath all the hurt and anger are emotions fighting to break free. Until I make sure that there’s nothing I can do to rectify the situation, I won’t be able to let go of our past.
Decision made, I hang out at the bar. Shane keeps me well stocked with water. As tempting as it is to guzzle down half a dozen beers, or a few shots, I’ve become enough of a shitshow without inviting more problems.
Two hours later, Alyssa is still on the dance floor, getting her groove on. I can barely take my eyes off her. She’s mesmerizing. That girl has enough moves to give a corpse major wood. The lights flicker, and the music continues to pump as she rolls her hips and lifts her hair with slim hands as if putting on a private show for some lucky bastard.
Just to be clear, I’m not the lucky bastard.
I drag a hand over my face. It’s killing me to watch her out there. And yet, looking away isn’t possible. Every time some asshole slides in front of her, I have to grit my teeth and talk myself out of stomping over and ripping her away. I’ve lost track of how many shots she’s tossed back, but it’s a lot—too many. It’s a surprise that she’s still able to stand upright, let alone twerk in that tiny silver dress that barely covers her ass.