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“You don't see it?”
“No.”
I reach back and grab the hair tie, yanking it out of my hair. My long brown locks fall around my face as I run my fingers through it to mess it up a bit.
“What about now?”
Easton stares back at me for a moment before closing his eyes and letting out a breathy laugh. He walks away and shakes his head, going over to take off his shirt.
“You're just going to ignore me now?” I sass.
He doesn't even turn to face me. “You're looking for an argument. So, for tonight, yeah. I am.”
Not even denying it. I drop my head and wrap my arms around myself as I let it sink in that I'm fighting a losing battle. He's never going to say the things I need for him to calm my fears. He's never going to be able to fix this.
We're completely and irrevocably broken.
Taking a deep breath, he comes toward me and uses his knuckle to lift my chin, making me look him in the eye. The same feeling that pulls me toward him at all times is still there. Still so strong. I swallow hard to maintain my composure.
“All we've done today is fight. So if it's okay, I'd rather we climb into bed and you let me hold you the way I've wanted to all damn night.”
It's a tempting idea, and I almost agree to it, until a realization makes my stomach churn. “You mean with my back to you? So all you see is my dark brown hair?”
He throws his head back and groans, turning to walk away again.
“What?” I say, exasperated. “It's not an outrageous thought. I just want to know if you picture Tessa when you're with me.”
“No!” he snaps, spinning around and getting in my face. “How could I when she never made my blood boil the way you do?” I try to look away but he grips my chin and holds me in place. “Being with her was easy. Carefree and effortless. Being with you is something else entirely.”
“Then leave me if I'm such a damn inconvenience for you,” I hiss. “Why be with me?”
“For fuck’s sake.”
In one swift move, he pushes me against the dresser and covers my mouth with his own. His arm wraps around my back as he pulls me closer. Our tongues tangle together in a heated mix of anger and desperation.
A little voice in the back of my head tells me to push him away. To stop this before it starts. But I can't. I want it and need it, just as much as he does—if not more.
It's like we're clinging to every ounce of the past as we can.
The relationship we had.
The physical connection that still burns between us.
Anything.
“You are so fucking infuriating,” he growls against my lips.
I dig my nails into his shoulders. “Fuck you.”
He chuckles darkly, lifting me up and onto the dresser. “Oh, baby. I'm going to do a hell of a lot more than that.”
Maybe it's because it's been over a week since I last had his hands on my skin. Or the way his touch feels like fire and ice all at once. Regardless of the reason, it's making me feel alive for the first time since I found out about his betrayal, and I’m not willing to walk away.
His mouth moves to my neck. He licks and sucks with just the right amount of pressure while he unzips the back of my dress. Once it's fully undone, he backs away and gently pulls the fabric from my arms, watching as it pools around my waist. His tongue darts out to moisten his lips as he pulls my bra off and throws it onto the floor.
“You're fucking mouthwatering,” he growls.
Instantly, he's all over my tits. His hand caresses the right one, while his mouth does its magic on the left. I throw my head back and let out a moan that sounds way too desperate but I can't find it in me to care.
