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Was it self-absorbed to do something you wanted?
No. It was not.
She did want this. But she was also running.
From me.
This all had something to do with me.
Or did it? I shook off the self-absorption. This was about Marjorie, not about me. Something new rose within me—something I hadn’t felt in a long time. I embraced it.
“Tell me,” I said. “Tell me why you did this to yourself.”
“Did what? I told you. It’s a scratch. I can be clumsy sometimes.”
I edged toward her and touched the smooth silk of her cheek. “Tell me, sweetheart. Please.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Marjorie
My insides went frigid. All the heat Bryce had invoked in my body, the intensity between my legs, vanished as if it had never been.
Tell me, sweetheart.
Such innocuous words, but to me they spoke of endless danger. Only one person, Melanie, knew my secret.
My weakness.
My most cowardly thing.
Yet the thought of opening up to Bryce, of truly letting him see all that I was, felt…good.
What a strange idea—to let the man I loved more than anything actually see me.
It was a scary proposition, but it also gave me hope. Hope I hadn’t felt in a long, long time.
Would he still want to be with me?
I held back a scoff. He didn’t want to be with me now. Oh, we had an intense chemistry and attraction. That much was apparent. But he’d written me that note of poison, telling me that nothing had happened between us.
And every time we were together, he made it clear in no uncertain terms that it could never, never happen again.
“It’s nothing,” I finally said.
“I don’t believe you.”
“You don’t have to believe me. You just have to accept my answer.”
“Fine.” He stood. “I guess we’re done here.”
He’d lost his erection, and he quickly zipped and snapped his jeans.
“I think we were done before we started,” I said. Yeah, I could sling the shit too. It was about time I started doing it. Bryce wasn’t the only one who could be purposely hurtful.
Hurting him gave me no pleasure, though. In fact, it made me feel worse. Did it do the same to him?
Why not ask?
