I had no idea.
But it didn’t seem like I had a choice anymore.
* * *
When I returned home, I showered and got ready for dinner. Muse didn’t eat with me anymore because she preferred my company only for sex. Unless we were fucking, she wanted nothing to do with me.
It stung.
It used to be exactly what I wanted, but now that hollowness suffocated me.
I went to her door and knocked.
“Come in.”
I stepped inside and spotted her in the living room. She was sitting on the couch in front of the TV with a book open in her lap. She’d showered after working outside all day, and now she was in a navy blue dress with her hair pulled over one shoulder. She didn’t wear makeup, so she’d obviously expected to have dinner alone that night—again.
She looked up from her book, a hint of hatred in her gaze. “Yes?”
I hated that look. I hated it more than anything. We hadn’t met under the best terms, and I’d done other terrible things to her that had never received that kind of coldness. I took her virginity, controlled every aspect of her life, and used her for my own gain. But none of that crossed a line. Only when she thought I slept with someone else did it truly affect her. It pushed her away because it hurt her down to her core.
Which meant she cared about me.
And the fact that I couldn’t fuck anyone else meant I cared about her.
How the hell did this happen?
When I didn’t answer, she repeated herself. “Yes?”
I sat on the couch beside her and pulled the book out of her hands. I shut it and tossed it on the table. “Have dinner with me tonight.”
“No, thank you.” She crossed her legs and turned her gaze to the TV.
I grabbed the remote and turned it off.
She directed her irritated gaze on me. “How about we fuck, and you just leave me alone?”
I closed my eyes for a moment, feeling the insult sink all the way into my stomach. Her tone was so cold, it felt like she stabbed me with an icicle. She ripped my heart into a million pieces. Until that moment, I didn’t know I had a heart. I hated the way she hated me. I despised myself for hurting her so much. I should have just been honest instead of letting her pain fester into contempt.
Or I shouldn’t have allowed myself to care about her to begin with.
“You hate me that much, huh?” I whispered.
She didn’t answer.
“There’s something I need to tell you. I guess I’ll say it now since you won’t have dinner with me…”
She crossed her arms over her chest and stared straight ahead, refusing to look at me.
I sat back against the couch and watched her, seeing the seemingly invisible walls erected around her. I’d hurt a woman who’d already been hurt enough. Instead of hiding away my loyalty and commitment, I should have been real. “I haven’t been with another woman since the day we met.”
She slowly turned her head my way, her eyes still guarded.
“The other night, I met Carter at my lingerie club. We talked about business. He had a few women with him. He pressed one on to me, but I wasn’t interested. Then he accused me of actually caring about you…so I tried to prove him wrong. I let the woman sit on my lap and kiss me. But when it came down to taking her home, I couldn’t do it. And when I say I couldn’t, I mean, I couldn’t force myself to do something I didn’t want to do. This woman was gorgeous, and I didn’t feel anything. I was never hard or even attracted to her. Carter gave me shit about it, and then I drove home. All I wanted to do was come back here and be with you.”
Her gaze didn’t change because her guard was still up.
“I lied because I didn’t want you to know how I felt. I didn’t want you to know we were monogamous. I didn’t want you to think I actually cared about you…that you were enough to satisfy me. Honestly, I’ve never been with just a single woman before. This is my first time. This is the first time I’ve ever wanted to bed the same woman over and over again…and never get tired of it. I don’t want meaningless, passionate sex. I don’t want a different woman every night. I just want you…and that fucking terrifies me.”
Her breathing escalated, her small breaths growing deeper and louder. Her gaze changed, slowly softening as the words sunk in.
“I’d rather you think I’m a promiscuous ass than let you believe you mean something to me. And I would have kept up that lie if it weren’t affecting my work so much. I haven’t made a decent sketch in weeks. I talked to Nicole this afternoon, and she suggested we push back the next show because my work hasn’t been up to my usual standard. My world is falling apart, and it’s all because of you. So now I’m telling you the truth…so you can stop hating me. I hate seeing that disdain in your gaze. I hate the way you fuck me now…like it doesn’t mean anything. I want it to be what it was before.”