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“For you, babe, I am the last man. So you better fucking get used to it.”
That night when they got back to Ghost’s place, they were barely speaking. He left her in the living area as he stalked into the bedroom. A moment later, she heard the bathroom door slam. She moved silently into the bedroom, put her ear to the door and heard the shower come on. She hesitated, wondering how he would react if she joined him. She laid her palm on the door. She’d been wrong to keep things from him. He was right. If she didn’t trust him, how were they going to make this work? They didn’t stand a chance.
A man like Ghost couldn’t have a woman that didn’t believe in him. It just wouldn’t work. Not a chance in hell. She knew that, she knew it. So why had she gone ahead and messed everything up by lying to him? Was she sabotaging her own happiness for some fucked up reason? Deep down, did she think she didn’t deserve him? Or did she think she wasn’t good enough for him, that she would never be enough to make him happy?
Perhaps that wasn’t it at all. Maybe if she was going to be really honest with herself, she had to admit she was scared, and a part of her was still all twisted up with him moving out years ago. She was really afraid he’d leave her again, wasn’t she? Was this all some fucked up test she’d devised in her subconscious mind to see how far she could push him? To see if this time nothing would push him away?
She pressed her forehead to the door as it all swamped over her. She had to stop doing this to herself, stop doing this to them, stop sabotaging any shot they had.
She took in a deep breath, and her hand closed over the knob.
The room was already filled with steam.
She pulled her clothes off, dropping them to the floor, and she opened the glass door of the shower stall.
He had his back to her, his palms high on the tile, his head dipped as the water pounded down on his shoulders. But he must have heard the door open, that or he felt the cooler air roll over him, for his head turned to the side, and she knew he saw her in his peripheral vision.
Still he didn’t move. He just stood there, motionless, perhaps waiting to see what she would do.
She lightly touched her palm between his shoulder blades, and gently stroked upwards toward his neck. Still he was unmoving, so she stepped closer, pressing her smaller body against his, her arms encircling his waist and her lips brushing a kiss to his back.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“Sorry doesn’t always cut it, Jess.”
“I was wrong, so wrong. I never should have doubted you’d have my back. I was afraid.”
“Of me?” At that, his palms slid from the tile, and he turned to face her.
She shook her head. “Just af
raid. Afraid to be vulnerable. Afraid to be hurt.”
“That what you think I’d do?”
She shrugged. “Not intentionally.”
He grabbed her face and pushed her back against the tile, boxing her in. “Why can’t you trust me, Jess? What do I gotta do to prove it to you?”
She shook her head. “You have nothing to prove to me. I’m the one that has to do that. I want you to trust me, Ghost.”
She watched his jaw tick as he looked down at her. “I wish I could trust you, brat. I do. But it’s not that easy.”
“What can I do to get your trust back?”
“You want me to trust you, start doin’ what I say. Earn it.”
She nodded.
They stared at each other a long moment, and then he whirled her around to face the wall, moving in against her. Her hands pressed against the wet tile as he dipped his head to her. His mouth was at her ear, as his hands closed over her hips.
“I’m still pissed at you. That’s gonna take a while to work through. You understand?” He squeezed his hands, pulling her back, and she felt his erection, big and hard press against her hip. And she understood, completely. And she was okay with that. More than okay. She rubbed the side of her face against his jaw as her ass rubbed up against him, and she spread her legs.
“I’m not gonna be gentle,” he warned unnecessarily.
She nodded. “Okay.”
“You gonna let me take what I want, however I want to take it?”
