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I struggled in his grasp, but he pressed his hips against my stomach, forcing me to feel the thick ridge of his arousal.
“Feel that? That’s because of your tears. That’s because I can’t stop thinking about how delicious you’d be if I made you sob. Truly sob. Ugly fucking wracking sobs. If you sobbed because I hurt you? Shit, I’d lose myself. I don’t want to snap. And I don’t want to hurt you, despite the fact I really fucking do.”
My breath caught, my mind racing at his contradictions. “If you want to, then…what’s stopping you?”
“You know what.”
I moaned as he jerked my head back, his fingers tight in my hair. My voice was far too feeble, desperately trying to understand without getting carried away with wishful thinking. “I don’t. I don’t know a damn thing.” I fought the stinging urge to cry again. “Please…just tell me. Tell me how this ends. Please—”
“Quiet.” His fingers opened and closed in my hair as if fighting his true nature.
If he was going to hurt me like he said in the foyer…he would’ve done so by now.
Wouldn’t he?
Perhaps I wasn’t so stupid to grasp at fairytales.
Maybe my mind wasn’t playing tricks after all.
It took every shred of strength to press a hand over his drumming heart. “Tell me. Tell me what you aren’t saying. Tell me why I sense that you’re different.”
“I’m different?” He chuckled. “And here I was thinking the same about you.” His brows came down. “You’re the one who’s different, Ily, and it’s a right pain in my ass.”
I stilled.
What did he mean by that?
Swallowing hard, I whispered for the third time, “Who are you?”
“Qui suis je?” (Who am I?) Grabbing my jaw, he shoved my head to the side, then breathed hotly. “I’m the man doing his best, all while knowing it will never be good enough.”
I didn’t fight his hold. To the cameras, it would look as if I was catatonic with panic. To be honest, that wasn’t far from reality.
Henri successfully deleted any foundation I had. He made me doubt. Made me question. Made me hope.
And that was by far the cruellest thing he could ever do.
“Please…” I murmured. “Just tell me.”
He let loose a slurry of slurs. “I knew this would be hard, but I wasn’t prepared for it to be impossible.”
“What’s impossible?”
“You.” He closed his eyes and groaned. “Fuck.”
I trembled in his hold.
He didn’t speak for the longest moment, all while his hips remained plastered against my stomach. The longer he held me, the faster my heart raced. An awful recipe of awareness and wishing turned me inside out.
I should hate him.
I did hate him.
And yet…there’d always been something.
Something that only grew stronger the longer we whispered.
“Tell me,” I demanded. “Before I go mad.”
