Page 84 of Tell Me Something

“So you want to kiss Will, to go out with him?”

“I don’t know,” I answered honestly.

“Which one: kiss or go out with?” His temper was building.

Instead of warning me to retreat, it was only pissing me off further.

“I don’t want to be made the fool. You’re out with all of these beautiful women, and I’m not going to sit at home waiting on your phone call or for you to come by. You didn’t even text me once over the Thanksgiving holiday. You call the shots, and I wait pathetically for them. I won’t be that girl.”

“Dammit, Haylee, you aren’t that girl. I thought we agreed to this. Then you become friends with Catherine, and all of a sudden we’re fighting.”

“I don’t want to argue anymore with you.” I told myself it didn’t matter. Why was I expending energy over something with an expiration date anyhow? Arguing over this was silly and almost pissed me off as much as he did.

He paced and then sighed. “Fine. No more fighting. You know what? I think you should go out with Will.”

He moved closer to me and then crushed his mouth down on mine.

All of my frustration and emotions came to the surface as I met his hungry kiss with one of my own.

He nipped my lower lip and then held me with a fist in my hair. Dominance and hunger were coursing through his body, and I wanted all of it.

“See if he turns you on the way that I do,” he mumbled, unfastening my jeans and taking them down to my boots before frantically cupping my sex.

I whimpered, wanting more.

He massaged me with unrelenting fingers. “See if he makes you as drenched as I do, if you want his fingers inside of your tight pussy like this.”

Clenching down around his fingers, I heard the hiss of his breath. He turned me around abruptly, set my hands on his desk, and entered me from the back in one stroke. I savored the burn of not quite being all the way ready for him.

“See if you don’t wish it was me fucking you instead.”

I couldn’t talk, couldn’t do anything but meet his thrusts and enjoy this sweet torture he was inflicting on me. My body was on sensory overload as I felt him building.

“I want you to remember the feeling of me inside of you.” He reached around for my clit, giving me the push I needed to have me coming at the same time he did.

We both stood there for what seemed eternity. Wincing as he withdrew, I heard the sound of him zipping up but didn’t bother to turn around while I reached down for my panties and jeans and tugged them up.

His strong hands helped me, and then he embraced me from behind. “I told you I would never use sex as a weapon or punishment again, and I broke that promise,” he whispered quietly.

I turned and brushed his face briefly before crossing over to my purse. “It wasn’t punishment as much as it was angry sex.” I had in fact wanted it as much as he had. But again it highlighted that I was missing something. Sweet and tender wasn’t the way that Josh Singer did things. I pulled his gift out and handed it over. “This is for you. It’s your Christmas gift. Have a good trip to Virginia tonight, all right?”

He looked at the package and then back at me. “So this is how we leave it?”

I swallowed hard. “I think we both need some time. This feels too complicated for a short-term relationship. I’ll see you when you get back and Merry Christmas.” I kissed him on the cheek and headed downstairs before he could see my tears.

I was numb while driving in the cab back to my apartment with my dress bags, half hoping Josh would delay his flight and spend the night with me instead. Stupid girl, I thought, letting myself into my apartment. He’d never promised more, and here I was disappointed that I’d never asked for it.

A gold envelope with a red bow was placed on my kitchen counter. I knew it had to be from him. Opening it, I smiled at the first class ticket to Perth to see my family there. It was incredibly generous and thoughtful. I was tempted to call or text him but thought it better to focus on getting through the holiday and get a rein on my emotions before dealing with us.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

I t was Christmas Eve, and I had things to do before I could barricade myself in my room and shut the world off. I made myself get up and shower and put on some makeup even though I didn’t want to. Then I went to the grocery store and laundromat before settling in to spend an hour composing Merry Christmas emails and sending out text messages. It would make it easier if I didn’t have to respond to holiday messages asking how I was doing but instead preempted them.

I called my aunt and uncle, explaining that I was at a friend’s house and had left my iPad at home as an excuse for being unable to FaceTime. I put on background music in order to complete the lie and so I could make it short. My Aunt J sounded relieved that I was spending the holiday with people, and we ended with laughs and a promise I would call her in a few days.

Finally, I thought, almost done. Fixing a bowl of cereal, I took out the bottle of pills I hadn’t used since my breakdown. They were prescribed sleeping pills, and I could take up to two. But one was enough to put me out for eight to ten hours, so I’d start with that.

My way of controlling the oncoming depression was to fast forward through the holidays and avoid it. Maybe it was a cop-out, but it sure as hell beat crying my eyes out and feeling sorry for myself.