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Exasperation clogged my throat. “You can’t come to the gallery and with that flimsy excuse—”
“We had a Thanksgiving celebration at work today a
nd it felt wrong that you weren’t here. I…” His cool demeanor faltered.
The muscle in his jaw jumped.
I couldn’t tell if he was actually getting angry, or simply didn’t like what I was saying. I didn’t really freaking care. “Let’s review. You literally fired me five minutes after you were inside me.” My breath hitched. The rooftop, that entire night had been amazing. Seeing him in a different light—where he cared about a stranger’s child enough to want to help. He made me feel too much.
“That was less than a week ago. Then you come to the gallery and we…” Guilt and anger wrapped around every emotion I had for this man.
“We wanted each other,” he finished for me. “You can’t deny that.”
“Of course I can’t. I have the shredded pantyhose and dignity to prove it.” I shut my eyes as the pleasure and shame burned inside me. Every step I took reminded me of this afternoon. I loved how rough he was with me sometimes. I loved that he made me feel so damn alive, but I still couldn’t get past the rest.
“This was the one thing you hadn’t touched. The one thing that was still mine and you still had to own part of it.”
Confusion furrowed his brow. “Grace, I…”
“I don’t understand you. You push me away, then pull me so close that I can’t even see around us. All I do is feel. And it’s too much, Blake. You can’t make me a part of something, then keep taking it away from me.”
“You think this is easy for me? I know that almost every word out of your mouth to me is a lie and I still can’t stay away from you.” He crossed the room and gripped the upper part of my arms.
I tried to back up, but he held me tight.
He shook me. “I want you so much that it makes me insane. I’ve always wanted you.”
I shook my head. That was the second time he’d said that. Always was such an immeasurable word. It didn’t make sense when describing the few weeks we’d known each other.
He seemed to figure out he’d said too much. He lifted me on to my toes. “And you’re not a whore. Me buying that angel has nothing to do with us.”
“It has everything to do with us. I poured myself into that piece.”
“Are you the fallen angel?” He let me down and cupped my face, his fingers tangling in my hair. “Gold hair and those huge blue eyes that look at me with such longing and hate at the same time.”
My vision blurred. I backed out of his hold, and turned away before the tears could actually fall. “I’m no angel.”
He came up behind me and wrapped his arms around me. “Neither am I. If there was anyone less deserving of you, it’s me.”
I sagged. The anger that had fed me—sustained me for so long—drained out. And the only thing left was truth. I couldn’t keep doing this, and yet I couldn’t seem to walk away from him.
I turned in his arms. “I’m so tired of the lies.”
“All we have are lies, Grace.”
His serious dark eyes were so sad. I picked around the anger that I’d been holding on to. Fear seemed to be the single thing that linked every fight, and every lie.
I took a deep breath. There were things I needed to tell him. Things I had to say that just wouldn’t make sense unless he saw them for himself. “Come home with me, Blake.”
“To your real home?”
I nodded. “No more lies.”
Nine
I couldn’t breathe. He stared into my eyes for so long, I was fairly sure my lungs were going to explode.
He stepped away from me, and went around his desk.
