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He chuckled, inordinately pleased when his stack of logs caught from the smoldering kindling. Fiery licks travelled up the wood, looking promising. He’d have to remember not to add more wood though. Tonight he had plans that didn’t involve Arabella nodding off at the campfire the way she had the night before.
“Well! All that, and an arsonist too. If the zombie apocalypse ever happens I’ve definitely hooked up with the right guy.”
“And how exactly do you plan to repay me for keeping you alive?”
“Blow jobs, obviously. Aren’t blow jobs the standard currency during a zombie apocalypse?
“I’m not sure they’re currency, exactly, but they’re always an excellent way to say thank you.”
“And yet you turned down the one I offered you in the alleyway after the bachelor party.” She shook her head in mock disgust. “You’re really hard on a girl’s self-esteem, Ellis.”
“I was very proud of my self-restraint that night. It’s not every day a man can bring himself to turn down a blow job he’s been fantasizing about for ages.”
She tsked, but her mouth quirked. “I was so pissed at you I almost hooked up with some random at the club.”
He turned toward her, scowling, although the effect was probably lost on her considering it was full dark and the fire was at his back.
“Hey, you don’t get to growl at me for that. You turned me down and hurt my pride. I figured if you didn’t want that blow job, I might as well give it to someone who’d appreciate it.”
He tried to follow what she was saying, but the visual he had of her leaving the club with some stranger had him so worked up he didn’t trust himself to speak. If it had happened it would have been his own damned fault. Intellectually, he knew that. Animalistically, she’d considered giving another man what was now his.
“You were pretty adamant about shooting me down every time I tried to seduce you. I honestly didn’t think I had a chance with you anymore.”
“You knew what I wanted.”
“And now you know why I can’t give it to you—at least not entirely. Part of me kept thinking that if you really wanted me you’d accept me on terms I could live with.”
“Honestly, I thought the reason you wouldn’t accept a collar from me was the same reason why I’m always single.”
Her brows knit. “Oh?” she asked, her tone teasing and light. “You don’t seem to have any trouble finding subs willing to share your bed.”
“Getting women into bed was never the issue for me.” He hesitated, but then decided he might as well just say it. “You know my history. The challenge has always been trying to get people to give a shit about me outside of bed. I’m not the kind of guy people love. When it comes to women, I’m the kind of guy they get their rocks off with, then ditch.”
“That’s not true! What about Sarah from the club?”
He tried to get himself to stop talking but now that he’d opened this can of worms, he couldn’t seem to shut up.
“Why bother? As soon as she got to know me she’d bail. People don’t like me, Arabella. People have never liked me. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I don’t know how to fix it. You’re the only person other than Will and Bethany who’s gotten to know me and hasn’t run away screaming.”
She was staring at him, her lips parted. “That’s not true.”
“It is true. My father, my sister, my stepmother—my own mother. The woman who made me can’t stand me. She rejected me not once, but twice, just to make things super fucking clear. Then you came along. You’ve always understood me and accepted me the way I was, and then we were together that night and I thought
maybe there could be more between us.” He took a breath and plunged on, his words like a runaway stagecoach in an old western, and he was pretty sure it was headed for a ravine. “When you said no I wasn’t surprised, but I had let myself hope, just a little. I knew it was stupid, but I couldn’t seem to help it. And then when you wanted to be friends with benefits, I . . . just couldn’t do it. Not even if it meant I could be close to you and pretend you—”
He stopped his tirade, realizing he was making an ass of himself. Why did he keep telling her these things? It was as if Canada’s fresh air was laced with magic truth vapor and he couldn’t stop blurting out the stupidest, most embarrassing shit.
The urge to stalk off was hard to ignore, but she deserved better than that. He was glad it was dark, though, considering how hot his face was. Even his ears were burning.
She was hugging herself, her eyes wide.
They’d been together for less than a week and he’d already fucked things up.
Well done, Grant, you fucking idiot.
She swiped a hand across her eyes.
Great. He hadn’t just over shared, he’d made her cry.
