Page 59 of The Mood Board

I wondered if he hadn’t so much missed me as wanted me back where he could make me small enough that I wouldn’t want to stray again.

“Of course, I did.” Russ leaned forward on purpose this time, his hand coming up to cup my face, his thumb brushing my cheek.

It was the same gesture as Liam’s the night he had been arrested—the last time he touched me, possibly forever. But at the same time, it was nothing like Liam’s. With Liam, I felt safe, and that safety translated to his touch, to its warmth and love and gentleness.

Russ’s hand only felt cold and possessive.

“We were good together, weren’t we? We had fun.” His face was close to mine, so close I could smell the beer on his breath—his favorite, with which I had stacked the fridge when I had gotten here, knowing he was coming over.

And it was true. We’d had some wonderful times together when we had first gotten together. Russ had been attentive and charming, everything I thought I had been looking for in a boyfriend. He had bought me gifts and taken me to expensive restaurants and exclusive clubs.

As a young design student, it had seemed miraculous that this charismatic, sexy older student had seen in me something he wanted. At the time, I just hadn’t realized what he wanted, and what he saw was someone he could manipulate, who wouldn’t leave the moment he started showing his true colors. And the expensive restaurants and exclusive clubs had only been credit card debt and fast, smooth talking.

But in the beginning, it had been a heady mix—Russ’s attention and the attention of the other women in the room on me. They had been jealous that I was the one who had snagged the top prize at school—me, the girl who had always been in the background, unnoticed. Until he had turned my fantasy on its head, and the other women had looked at me with pity and smugness when he had turned his attention to them just to make me jealous, to put me in my place. To make sure I knew he could have any woman he wanted, that it would be easy to throw away if I didn’t stay in line.

“We did,” I replied carefully.

Someday, I wanted him to know that I had called all of his bluffs—that I knew what he was doing and was ready to scream it to the world. I wanted him to know that even though he had hoped to take me down so far I would never get back up again, he had failed. It might have taken a lot of working on myself and trusting another man to show me that not all of them were like Russ, but he had failed. I was strong, I believed in myself, and I knew exactly who he was. I wanted him to know he would never fool me again, never crush me like that again.

But that moment wasn’t now. Right now, I had to pretend to be the woman who didn’t know better, who was so insecure that she had to run back to her ex for validation. He was being sweet now, but I knew that would take a turn at his earliest opportunity—whenever he felt he had me firmly back in his clutches and beneath his thumb.

“And we’ll have those times again.” Russ’s eyes closed as he leaned in for a kiss.

Automatically, I leaned back away from him, and Russ’s eyes popped open when I wasn’t where I was supposed to be. His brows beetled in half frustration, half confusion.

“I need time to fall in love with you again,” I said, the excuse coming from nowhere out of desperation.

I held my breath, waiting for Russ’s reaction. When he sat back up, shrugging, I let it out.

“That makes sense,” he said, surprising me. Then he shot me a grin. “But don’t worry. I’ll make you fall in love with me again, you’ll see. Just don’t make me wait too long.”

“I won’t,” I replied,

But it wasn’t my love he wouldn’t have to wait for—it was his comeuppance. Just the one he deserved.