“But why?” I ask with a shrug. “Whyis this such a big deal? Because he’s protective and he swings before he thinks? I am my own person. I make my own choices. Why does whatIwant never factor into things?”
“Because you want the things you can’t have!” he snaps, scanning my face. “Don’t pretend like that isn’t the exact reason you have been toying with me this whole time. You knew thatyou were off-limits to me. You knew I was the one who was least likely to cave, with the highest stakes because of how close I am with your brother.”
My eyes narrow. “Contrary to what you might think, Boston Black, I am not a master manipulator. I have beentoyingwith you because I find your personality thrilling, and because even before I knew you, you’ve had an uncanny ability to make me desperate for your attention by just looking in my general direction.”
He freezes, his eyes burning into mine now.
“I am not doing anything to hurt my brother,” I seethe, jumping to my feet, “but I’m not living my life to prevent him from being hurt, either. Ineededto know, alright? I needed to know if you lived up to the idea of you in my head. It has been driving me crazy for years and I will not apologize for it.”
He swallows, but I march right to the door. Screw this conversation and screw him. This is why I don’t waste my time with good men. Men who care. I grab the handle and whirl on him.
“Get out.”
He blinks. “What?”
“I’m not going to sit here and listen to you talk about how what we did was some ploy to piss someone else off. Like you were some notch on my bedpost. It’s not what it was for me, and I’m pissed off at the insinuation, so get the hell out, Boston.”
He sulks toward me, and I move to open the door, but I only manage an inch before his palm slams it shut above my head. I’m acutely aware of how close he is, but I’m too scared to turn around when I can feel his body hovering at my back. I trust him and his stupid moral compass, but I don’t trust myself.
I know what I want, and I know what he doesn’t want. That puts me in the world’s most terrible position. Between him—him,and the door that separates us.
“Did it?”
I swallow, staring at the door instead of facing him. “Did what?”
“Did it live up to your expectations?” His voice is low. Gruff.
Mother fu—he needs to decide what he feels and who the hell he wants to be, because he can’t talk like this immediately after reminding me that we can’t cross the line he’s dreamed up in his head. He’s crossing it by asking these questions, by standing so close, by being in my room at this ungodly hour. I can’t keep up. I don’t like games that I’m not in control of and I clearly don’t haveanycontrol right now. It’s all him.
“Exceeded them,” I admit, my voice quiet.
He leans down, his lips brushing the shell of my ear.
I suck in a breath, my eyes fluttering shut.
What do you want from me, Boston Black?
“I’m not saying this shit as an excuse, okay? I’m saying it because it’s killing me to coexist without touching you. I hate knowing that I have to act like nothing’s happened because nobody can ever know. It took everything in me not to crawl across this hallway on my hands and fucking knees last night,beggingfor one more minute of your bullshit.”
That. Isn’t. Fair.
“If you can’t get over this stuff with my brother, then get on your knees and crawl right back to your room.”
His hands find my hips—theyfinallyfind my hips. I suck in a sharp breath as he gently pulls my body against his. “It’s not that simple.”
“Then just go, Boston.”
“Is that what you want, or are you proving a point?” he asks quietly against my hair.
“Proving a point, obviously,” I say, finally turning in his hands to face him. I tip my chin up defiantly, leaning my backagainst the door. He follows me, unwilling to let go of my waist now that he’s touching me again.
“I haven’t stopped thinking about you,” he tells me, his green eyes earnest. My heart sputters, trying to decipher that serious expression—the knot between his eyebrows. “It’s driving me fucking crazy that you sucked me off in a public bathroom, and I didn’t get to return the favour.”
Damn him. I’m supposed to listen to him talk like that and hold my ground at the same time? Not a chance in hell. Not when he’s this pretty and I know how good his mouth feels.
“All day, I was wondering if you were wearing pink for me,” he murmurs, reaching up to tuck a piece of hair behind my ear.
I was.
