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I know it’s not my fault. Bodies respond. It’s a fact of biology. They can respond at any given time. Even when it’s inappropriate.Especiallywhen it’s inappropriate. I hate myself anyway.
I meant for this to be over by now, and here I am, dragging it out. Making it take as long as possible. I can’t help it. I told myself I’d direct us out of this, and all I’ve done is start the show.
Jacob looks hot kissing Elise. I change the angle so that I’m at her side, rather than at her back. So that I can see him kissing her. Touching her. Exploring her, though his hands never go below her waist. It’s clear that he believes what he said in thehall.I know you’re in love with Elise.So he’s only going as far as necessary, and not another inch.
Part of my mind screaming for him to stop. Screams in an anguished, shredded voice that no one else is allowed to touch her. That Elise is mine. That I don’t care if she doesn’t love me, she’s mine. Please don’t touch her. Please don’t touch me. Stop, stop, stop.
The rest thinks it’s hot.
They’re gorgeous people, and Jacob’s only doing what he has to do to make this look real for the consortium. That’s all we’re doing here. I’m not giving her up, I’m saving her. I’m saving all of our lives.
My thoughts get caught in that loop.
I’m a fucking monster. Look at them together. That’s hot. Don’t touch her.
Got you. Got you. Got you.
Until Jacob lifts his face from hers and leans into speak to me.
“What are you thinking about?” He uses a low, terse tone, almost as if we’re arguing, but I hear the concern underneath. Jacob smells faintly of peppermint. His favorite flavor of gum. He always hated spearmint.
“You want to talk?Now?”
“Yes.”
“I’m busy.” I move behind Elise again, turn her face to the side, and kiss her. She shivers, licking my bottom lip. She’spleasedthat I’m kissing her. And if she’s pleased, then I’m not forcing her.
But if Iamforcing her, then I’ve become everything I hated about the consortium. I’ve become the worst kind of person. And there’s no point in holding back. There’s no point in delaying the inevitable.
God. Fuck. I can’t.
I don’t want to be like the men at the table. All of them are hard. I only need a glance to know. I’ve made it my business to know when people like what they see, and every man at the table likes what he sees.
Including Bettencourt.
The urge to be sick threatens again, but I breathe through it.
Don’t give them the chance to kill you.It’s my own voice in my head. A calm, reasonable voice that’s not shaking with terror. A version of me who doesn’t have sweat under his collar.You know how to do this. Pretend you like it.
I don’t have to pretend. I love kissing Elise. I love touching her.
I bend my head to Elise’s ear. “I’ll make it good for you.”
“I know that. I know.” Her little murmurs sound like sex noises. The bastards at the table will like that. “But Gabriel—”
“Shh. I swear. I won’t hurt you.”
“You don’t want this.”
What she means is thatshedoesn’t want this. She can agree all she wants, but deep down, she doesn’t want this. I’m a monster. I’ll always be a monster.
“It’ll be over soon,” I promise her. If I can get the fuck out of my own head.
Jacob laughs, the sound low and warm. He reaches to touch my jaw. “That’s not how I remember it with you.”
His hand on my face, the gentle joke, throws me into the past. It’s like I’m there. Jacob’s bed. His sheets. His body. The younger, more innocent version of me who had sex with him because it felt good, not because it was a transaction. It could have been different. It could have gone another way. It could still feel good.
I drop back into the present. That’s not what sex is. Not anymore. Not ever again. “Why are you here? You didn’t have to do this.”
