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Deserved it.
And then she’d leave him, and he’d never see her again. Or maybe he’d catch glimpses of her here and there, and she’d have a husband at her side. And a cute horde of strawberry-blonde-haired babies. And she’d be so fucking happy, while he…
Well, he wouldn’t be.
He knew that already.
But even so, he’d do it. He’d send her away. After a deep breath that felt as if he’d swallowed a box of nails, he opened the door and got his breath punched out of his chest. She wore nothing but a trench coat, which she clearly showed him by holding it wide fucking open.
He stumbled back, his body responding in ways it shouldn’t have. “Lydia, what the fuck are you—?”
“Oh, you know what I’m doing.” She barged inside, kicking the door shut behind her. “This is how I was going to greet you tonight, you know. There was going to be champagne and a dinner, too, but you get the idea.”
He gave her his back. If he looked at her for one more second, he’d break. All his resolve to save her from himself would die a quick death. “Well, sorry to disappoint you, but we won’t be dining or drinking…or fucking.”
“Actually, I don’t think you are sorry at all.” She came up behind him, stopping close enough for him to feel her heat, but not close enough that they were touching. “So, the feeling’s gone, huh?”
“Y-Yes.” He swallowed hard, refusing to look at her again. If he did, she’d end up against the door with him between her legs in two-point-two seconds flat. “Gone.”
“So if I do this?” He heard her coat hit the floor. She was going to kill him. “You’ll feel nothing. Want nothing. Nothing at all.”
Jesus. He dragged his hand through his hair, fighting the base urge to turn around and get one last glimpse of her body before he sent her running. “I told you it’s over, so, yes. I feel nothing.” Not true. I feel everything.
“You’re so full of it.” She stepped even closer. “You aren’t even looking at me. Look at me, and tell me you don’t care. Tell me that everything you said last night was a lie. Tell me to my face that you don’t want me anymore.”
To be honest, he wasn’t sure he could do that at all. But if it meant she got to escape his clutches, he’d have to find a way to make it work. To be strong enough.
He gritted his teeth and turned. She stood there, gloriously naked, wearing nothing but a pair of black heels and a furious scowl. He almost took it all back. Almost knelt at her feet and begged forgiveness.
But then he remembered why he’d done this, and he reinforced his resolve.
“Fine.” Looking her straight in the eye, he gave her body a once over, forcing his expression to remain impassive and unimpressed. To add insult to injury, he shrugged. Actually shrugged, as if what he saw was nothing worth looking at. And he hated himself more than ever, which was saying a hell of a lot. “I. Feel. Nothing. It’s gone.”
She blanched and stumbled back a step. “Oh.”
The pain in her eyes was almost too much to bear. It looked as if he’d literally grabbed her heart out of her chest and stomped on it—and he might as well have. He took an uneven step toward her, hand outstretched. “Lydia, I—”
“D-Don’t.” She held a hand up. Bending at the knees, she picked up her coat and put it back on. She pulled it shut and gripped it closed with white knuckles. “Don’t say another word. I was stupid to come here after you told me you were done, and even stupider to think this was about something else.”
It felt as if he had a knife jabbed in his throat. “What did you think this was about?”
“I got a job offer, and I thought you were trying to push me away, so I’d go—” She pressed her mouth tightly together. “You know what? It doesn’t matter what I thought. I was obviously wrong, so I’m going to go.”
You’re right. Don’t go.
He shoved his hands in his pockets. If he didn’t, he’d grab her and kiss her and show her just how right she was. That this was all for show so she’d take the job, instead of taking a chance on a guy like him. One who wouldn’t even know what love was if it punched him in the gut or kicked him in the nuts. “All right.”
She backed up, a hand over her mouth. He wanted to look away. Wanted to show her he didn’t care about her, or what she chose to do with her life.
But he did. He really fucking did.
She almost made it to the door before she stopped. Her hand on the knob, she turned around and stared at him. “Why did you say those things last night?”
“I don’t know.” He dug his fingers into his palms. “I really don’t fucking know. I guess I got caught up in the moment. Mistook lust for something that was…more.”
“So all of those things…you didn’t mean a single word? Not one?” Shaking her head, she paled. “I don’t believe it. I can’t.”
“Jesus, Lyd. What more do you want from me? A signed confession?”
