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She hesitated, her gaze raking over him, landing on his cock in a hot blaze of arousal. Then she lifted her head and only a blank stare greeted him. “Why can’t we just keep this casual and fun? Why can’t you be okay with what happened last night?”
“I am okay with what happened last night.” He grabbed his underwear and pants. Irritation made his movements jerky as he dressed. A relationship he had dreamed of was right there, nearly waiting for him, but her games continually stopped it. “I’m not okay with what happened this morning.”
“I don’t like to cuddle.”
No, she liked to cuddle when her mind shut off and she needed him to hold her. “Lie,” he all but spat.
Her brows drew together, a frown marring her face. “I’ve made it perfectly clear that I’m not looking for a romantic relationship.”
“Lie,” he growled, doing up the button on his pants.
She huffed, scowling at him. “I don’t know what else to tell you. I agreed that last night was a coincidence that couldn’t be ignored. That something drew us together and I needed to act on it. And you’re right, I do crave the hands of a Dominant man, but my heart belongs to Charles. It always will.”
Her words brushed across his senses, as a situation he hadn’t noticed before suddenly became clear. So much so that all her actions and everything she did made total sense. His chest tightened with the swell of anger inside. He had thought Mary kept putting distance between them out of guilt, because her husband died. Now he knew a truth that made sickness roll through him.
“I am a damn fool,” he bit off, folding his arms. “This whole time I thought you burned for me. But it’s not that, is it? You burn for your husband. When you’re with me you think of him, don’t you?” She paled before his eyes and cast her gaze down. His face heated with his glare. “I’m just a reminder of him. You don’t have the connection with me. You have it with Charles, and it’s that sensation—that feeling of your Dominant’s hands—you are after.”
He paused, waiting for her to refuse it.
She didn’t.
He reached for his shirt on the floor and then dressed. “Here I thought I found a beautiful connection, but it’s not that, is it? I’m simply witnessing the connection you have to your deceased husband.”
Again, he hesitated.
She said nothing.
He scowled at her dark head of hair bowed to her lap. “I thought that first night you were experiencing an emotional drop from not playing in so long, but it wasn’t about that, was it?” He shook his head, anger boiling through him like a fever. “You imagined yourself with him. And the emotional response was because of how long you’ve craved his touch. You’ve been picturing him in your head every time we have played, haven’t you?”
She finally lifted her head, shame darkening her eyes. “Elliott.”
“Don’t.” He didn’t need further confirmation. “You may not know what you deserve, Mary. Or maybe you think you shouldn’t feel what you feel, so you can’t imagine yourself with anyone else. But I know what I deserve.”
“What do you deserve?” she whispered.
“To touch a woman and have her respond honestly.” His voice rose with the tension consuming him. “I deserve not to be lied to. I deserve to have her wake in my arms and be happy to be there. I deserve not to be used as a way for a woman to remember her dead husband, but that she wants to experience life with me.”
Her lips parted, then shut, and tears welled in her eyes.
He clenched his fists, his fingers biting into his palms. Even now, he despised her beauty. He cursed that he wanted to go to her and wrap his arms around her. He loathed the very fact that she would simply squirm away, not wanting his hold, but wishing it was Charles. Shaking his head in disgust, he growled, “I won’t continue to touch you like this.”
“Like what?”
He approached her side of the bed, staying out of her space. “You’re either with me or you’re not. It’s one thing to keep this casual. It’s another thing for you not to be honest with your feelings for me and pretend that I am someone else. Be real
with me.”
“I’m being as real as I can.” Her voice rose, matching the flames of anger in his. She thrust the covers off and grabbed her dress off the floor. “I’m here, aren’t I? I’m giving you all I can give you.”
He crossed his arms, seeing her half-corset and knowing that one symbol told him how much she wasn’t with him. She wouldn’t have worn it for Charles, and keeping it on told him now it was her way of declaring she wasn’t Elliott’s. “No, you’re giving me all you think you can give me. All you think you deserve. What kind of man would that make me to allow it?”
She drew in a deep breath, her eyes blazing with ire. “I’m so damn tired of Doms always thinking they know what is right for me. I don’t need you telling me who I am or what I am. I know who I am. I know exactly what I’m doing.”
He arched a brow. “Do you?”
“Yes, I do.” She glared. “I have been very clear with you that this is a casual encounter.”
A muscle in his jaw flexed. “Charles is dead.” His voice sounded ice-cold even to his ears. “I’m here.”
