He likes control. I’ve known this for years. I had no idea it carried over sexually, though I shouldn’t be surprised.
“I won’t f**k you, though. I can’t have you,” he says, disappointment ringing in his deep voice. He runs his lips along my neck, covering my sensitive skin with tiny, hot kisses, and I moan, wishing I were na**d.
Wishing he were inside me. Filling me, f**king me like he suggested. Pounding deep within me so hard I can’t help but come within minutes.
God, I really, desperately want that.
My moan seems to knock him out of his stupor and he rears his head back, releasing his hold on me as if I’ve burned him. Scrambling off the mattress so fast it all happens in a frenzied blur. He’s standing on the side of the bed, running his hands through his hair and clutching the back of his head as he looks at me in utter disbelief. “What the f**k just happened?”
Sitting up, I smooth my hair back from my face, wincing when my fingers brush over my bandage. “Don’t pretend you don’t know what just happened.”
He glances down at himself, spotting his erection no doubt, and makes one of those frustrated male sounds he’s so good at. “Tell me we didn’t . . .”
“Don’t worry.” I climb off the bed, trying my best to look dignified as I stand before him, knowing I’m failing miserably considering I’m wearing a see-through tank and skimpy panties. I should be embarrassed, but screw it. “We didn’t. Like you don’t know that.” We didn’t even get in any tongue action with our kiss and I’m downright desperate to know his taste. To know if we’re as compatible as I hope we are when it comes to kissing.
Disappointment settles over me, mixed with a fair dose of irritation. This conversation we’re about to have is gonna go south, quick.
“Why are you in my bed?” His gaze drops, drinking me in, and those cool blue eyes of his heat with unmistakable arousal.
“Why am I always in your bed? Why do you think I come to you at least four times a week in the middle of the night and slip beneath the sheets with you? If you’re going to pretend like you don’t know what’s happening here, I swear to God, Colin, I’m going to kick your ass.”
He has the nerve to laugh, the jackass. “Did you know you’re pretty hot when you’re mad?”
“This isn’t a joke.” Taking a deep breath, I tell myself to remain calm. He’s doing his usual thing. Pretending nothing serious just went down, acting like he has no idea what actually happened.
He’s a liar. I wonder if he’s been playing me this entire time.
“I know it’s not.” His words practically dare me to explain exactly what’s happening.
So I go for it.
“We never talk about it, you know.” I take a step toward him, forgetting my lack of clothing, too focused on my anger. “What happens at night between us. What’s been building and growing since I moved in with you.”
He backs up, his expression wary. “What do you mean?”
“Don’t act like you don’t know.” I take another step closer, his body heat radiating toward me, tempting me. Despite my anger and frustration, I still want him and it’s infuriating. “Your bad dreams, me sneaking into your bed and holding you close. Trying to make you feel better. What do you dream about, Colin?”
“I don’t remember,” he says automatically, but he knows. Just like I know.
“You dream about my brother.” Another step, and this time I grab his hand and cling to it. “It’s been almost two years. You need to let Danny go.”
He jerks his hand out of mine. “I don’t want to talk about this.”
“We have to. It’s like this huge wall that sits between us. And every time I try to scale it, you push me off.” I start toward him again, ready to push him, hit him, I don’t know what, but he grabs me first. Wraps those big, warm hands of his around my waist and sets me away from him as if he can’t stand having me too close.
“I won’t do this, Jen. Not now.” The expression on his face really says not ever.
And that pushes me past my breaking point. I’m done.
“That’s why I won’t stay here. This place, this entire situation, is unhealthy. Oh, and our so-called relationship? Completely unhealthy. I refuse to stand by and let you pretend nothing is happening when something so is. I’m not going to be the only player in this game.” Turning, I head straight for the door, praying he’ll chase after me, grab me, kiss me senseless.
At the very least, yell at me to stop, beg me to listen to his explanations. I want that glimpse into his soul, his heart. The wall he’s built around it is made of steel, absolutely impenetrable, but I want to be the only one who can bust it down.
Yet he does nothing. Absolutely nothing. Just lets me go, as usual, without saying a word.
So I walk out, never once looking back. It takes everything within me not to look back.
When I finally make it to my room, with the door firmly locked, the window thrown open to let in some of that deliciously cold night air, I collapse on my bed and cry. Heavy, painful sobs take over my body as I bury my face in the pillow so he won’t hear me. Leaving him is the right thing to do, the only thing to do. This merry-go-round Colin and I are on is pointless. My crying over him? It’s pointless too.
As the last sob escapes me, I’m thankful for the cool breeze that dries the tears on my cheeks. Thankful even more for the sleep that slowly but sweetly takes over me.
Colin
I let her walk out of my room and didn’t try to stop her. What the f**k is wrong with me? Twenty-four years old and I’m acting like a child. She means the world to me and I keep on letting her go. Keep on pretending what’s happening between us isn’t real. All for her sake, I tell myself. I don’t want to hurt her.
Bullshit. More like I don’t want to hurt myself. Taking risks with my career is never a problem. Taking risks with my personal life?
Forget it.
Collapsing on the edge of the bed, I lean forward and hang my head, resting my elbows on my knees. My earlier erection is long gone, replaced by a pile of regret that bubbles up, threatening to choke me. She’s right. I lied. I knew exactly what happened between us. How good she felt, how amazing she tasted. How responsive she’d been within seconds of me touching her.
Like a complete asshole, I pushed her away, pretended I didn’t know what was going on, and essentially shut her out for the last time. She walked out of my room without looking back once, hot as f**k in a pair of panties that rode up her ass and showed off her firm cheeks, a thin tank top that was see-through, allowing me to make out the color and size of her ni**les right before she turned away from me.
They were deep rose and tiny.
“Fuck.” I run my hands through my hair again and again, messing it up and not really giving a shit. The dream hadn’t been so bad tonight. Danny was beckoning me to follow him through the woods like when we were kids. I’d chased after him, eventually losing him, as usual.
Then flew into a panic when I realized he was gone. When I realized he was never coming back. I’ve had variations of the same dream for years. We could be little kids, in high school, or even the age we were the last time we were together, but it always ends up the same.
I lose him. I can’t find him. And as I search everywhere, I slowly figure out he’s never coming back. Danny is dead.
Since Jen moved in with me, she’s been there for me without asking any questions, sneaking into my bed, offering me comfort, and I always take it. Revel in it. Then pretend it never happened.
Well, no more. I need to stop acting like a coward and talk to her. Before I lose her forever.
Standing, I stride out of my room and walk with determined steps to Jen’s, conscious of the fact that I’m in my underwear and nothing else. Not the best outfit for a serious conversation, but screw it. If I’m lucky, maybe she’ll invite me into her bed and we can continue where we left off earlier.
Yeah, right.
The door is shut and locked, but I have one of those tiny keys resting on top of the door frame. I reach for it, feel the cool metal beneath my fingers and grab it, jamming the key into the lock and turning it until the lock springs open. Silently I slip in, not wanting to scare her or worse, disturb her if she’s sleeping.
I hope like hell she’s not sleeping.
But she is, and disappointment crashes over me. I draw closer to her bed and see that she’s on her side facing the window, the covers tucked around her shoulders, her eyes closed and lips pursed. Without thought I settle on the edge of the bed as gently as possible, seeking her warmth. Reaching out, I touch her hair, letting the dark brown strands sift through my fingers. She’s the total opposite of me. Dark hair to my blond, chocolate-brown eyes to my pale blue ones, sweet to my bastard-like ways.
I don’t deserve her. I push her away because I know it’s true. But what would it be like to give in? Just once? And show her how much I want her . . .
Jen rolls over onto her back, a soft sigh escaping her, and I let my hand drop, holding my breath as I wait for her to wake up.
She doesn’t.
Following my instincts, I stretch out beside her on top of the comforter, slipping my arm around her waist and pulling her in. I close my eyes and rest my cheek on top of her head, breathing in her scent, absorbing her sweetness. Just having her near calms my racing heart, soothes my agitated nerves. The dream made me edgy. Her confrontation rattled me further, until all I wanted to do was sweep it under the virtual rug and pretend it never happened.
But now as we lie together and I hold her close, a sense of peace settles over me. She snuggles closer, her head resting on my shoulder, her mouth close to my neck. Her breath flutters against my skin, sending a scattering of tingles all over me, and then her lips move, damp and warm. “You won’t be able to deny we’re in bed together this time,” she says in this sexy little whisper that goes straight to my dick.
Fuck. I grab hold of her tight, moving her body so she’s beneath me, I’m straddling her hips, and we’re right back at square one. Right where we started before this all fell apart.
This time, I’m not going to let that happen.
Chapter 4
Jen
“. . . and that was it. I said that to him and he jumped me like he was going to, you know, do me or whatever. At the very least, kiss me. But he didn’t. He stared at me like I’d grown three heads, and then he climbed off me.”
“No.”
“Yes.” I nod, getting into my pitiful story. But at least I’m telling it to Fable, who understands. Anyone else would probably laugh at me. “Right before he left, he said . . .” Pausing, I take a breath, lowering my voice so I can mimic Colin. “‘You’re right. I can’t deny it any longer.’ Then he bent over, kissed the top of my head, and walked right out of my room.”
Fable stares at me, her green eyes wide, her mouth hanging open in disbelief. Any other day, I’d want to laugh. We could probably laugh over this together someday because really, last night had been ridiculous. Surreal.
I’m not laughing now, though. And neither is Fable. She knows how important Colin is to me. How drawn I am to him despite not wanting to be. She gets it. She went through her own turmoil with Drew and they somehow came out the other side. The happy side.
I have the distinct feeling that’s not gonna happen for Colin and me.
“So he bailed. He was on top of you in a bed and did nothing,” Fable finally says. “And said he can’t deny it? What, are you an it now?”
Shrugging, I glance down at the table. We’re at Fable and Drew’s apartment, though Drew isn’t home. He’s at football practice and her brother, Owen, is at his high school junior varsity’s practice. Following in his sister’s boyfriend’s footsteps, which I can’t help but find cute.
“And you let him go. Didn’t say a word to him. Just let him leave.” Fable sounds completely mystified. I can relate, since I, too, am totally mystified.
And miffed. Totally, completely bent out of shape.
“What could I say to him? ‘Hey, wish you’d stay so we can finally do it?’ I don’t think so.” I’m still staring at the table, which is small and dark and perfect. I think they just bought it—I remember Fable telling me they went furniture shopping. There’s not a mark on it, not even a fleck of dust.
“If I were you, I would’ve yelled something like, ‘Don’t think you’re ever getting back in my bed, dickhead. Not with that sort of shit going down.’ I mean, the guy needs to be put in his place. He can’t just use you and leave you like that. What a jerk!” Fable is all quiet bravado and I admire that. Wish I could yell at Colin and tell him how he really makes me feel.
How much last night’s seeming rejection hurt. How he really didn’t use me. How I sometimes secretly wish he would use me. I went to his bed willingly. I always go to his bed willingly. I can’t stand to hear him suffer, hear him cry out. Sometimes he’ll say my brother’s name. Sometimes, mine.
His pain breaks my heart. It’s a pain he stifles in the light of day. That he semi-acknowledged what we have lit a flicker of hope within me.
That he walked away—again—snuffed out the feeble flame.
I do the same thing, though. I’m stifling my pain, my secret. It’s easier that way. Still doesn’t mean I understand him, though.
“I told him I was quitting, that I was leaving, all of it. He doesn’t want me to go but he didn’t really say why, either, so . . . it’s pointless for me to be here.” I finally lift my head and meet Fable’s gaze. She looks disappointed in me and I hate that. I’ve done that a lot in my life—disappoint people. I don’t mean to. It just happens.