I let out a soft laugh. “It’s not different. Fucking someone over is fucking them over. Big fucks. Small fucks. They’reall fucks, Rosalie. Their size doesn’t matter. You cheated on me. You just did a little less of it than I did.”
Her hands visibly shook as she stared at me.
I was so angry. So fucking hurt. I couldn’t even figure out all the emotions I was. Bitter? Vindictive? Pissed off? Jealous?
I never fucked Celeste. Not even when I was married to the bitch, but Rosalie didn’t know that. I’d taken the heat on the entire matter so E wouldn’t have to.
I didn’t know, but my mouth worked before my brain.
“It’s the excitement, huh? Your tongue in someone else’s mouth? Their hands on your body? How wet you get? I know what it feels like. I felt it. The thrill. The excitement. The rush as I pushed into my girl’s body, fucking her until she screamed my name. Knowing I was leaving behind someone weaker for someone stronger.”
Her bottom lip trembled as she stared at me.
“You’re fucking married, Rosalie. Have some goddamn self-respect for once in your life. Good girls don’t sit in dark cars with guys who want to fuck them.”
“Fuck you, Enzo,” she choked out.
I let out a soft, dark laugh. “Fuck me? Oh, baby, we already played that game. I had mediocre sex for almost two years with you. Remember?”
Her next move I did not see coming.
Her crutch flew at me so fast that I barely had time to duck. It crashed against the wall.
And then she threw the other one at me, narrowly missing me again.
I rushed at her as she toppled over after crying out because she’d stepped too hard on her ankle.
I caught her before she hit the ground.
If I thought for a moment she was going to be grateful, I was wrong. Her hand came out and smacked me so hard across the face that it snapped my head sideways.
Fuck, she had a hit on her.
“Let me go,” she snarled as I grabbed her hands and pinned her to the floor. She tried to kick me, but I moved quickly and straddled her.
She gnashed her teeth, tears on her cheeks.
“Stop. Stop it,” I said to her, my heart breaking. I’d been a complete fucking asshole. I wanted to tell her none of the things I said were true. That I loved her endlessly. That she was the best I’d ever had or would ever have. That I was nothing without her.
Instead, I continued to hold her down, aching to kiss her. To hold her. To whisper promises to her that I’d die to keep.
“What’s going on?” Cole demanded, rushing into the room.
He shoved me off Rosalie. I tumbled to the floor as he snatched her up, holding her crying, trembling body against his.
“What the fuck?” Cole shouted. “What the fuck are you doing to her?”
I sat up and stared at her.
“I want to go home,” she whispered, her voice shaking. “I-I want to call Evan.”
“No,” I snapped at her, the same time Cole called out a soft protest. If she left, it would gut Cole.
She shoved Cole away and crawled across the floor. He scrambled after her to help, but she let out a snarl and shoved him again. He fell onto his ass, devastation on his face as she struggled to her feet.
We both watched her grab her crutches and hobble upstairs.
“What did you do?” Cole whispered, staring at the stairs.
