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This is so unfair.
He growls happily, oblivious to my frustrations, enjoying the scrape of his stubble on my skin.
Why does he have to be so detached? So convincing when he asks for something I don’t think I can give.
He thinks he’s doing me a favor with this—whateverthisis? Is that it?
Like I’m still this shy little ex-virgin with nothing else going in my life besides his swinging dick?
I look up, refusing to hide my irritation anymore.
He finally notices and opens his lips. “Delia, what’s—”
“Why do you have to be such an asshole?” I can’t hide the contempt in my tone.“If you don’t start treating me with a shred of respect, it’s better we just forget this now. Why wait until I’m back in the dorms? It’ll just be harder.”
I give his cock one more pump, then rip my hand away.
God.It shouldn’t be so hard to take my hands off his body.
But I have to force myself to stand, looking down at him, one arm slung across my shoulder like I’m breaking my fall.
He stares up at me like I’m a challenge he never expected.
Then he shrugs, pops up off the lounge chair, and chugs the last of the cold coffee next to us.
“Whatever, babe. I’ll leave you alone to think this shit over. It’s your choice. I’ve got work. I’ll drop by later to hear your answer.”
My answer?
Is he serious?
He fixes his pants, putting himself back together before he gives me one last longing look at the bulge still raging in his pants.
Then, without another word, he marches back inside, shoving the door closed behind him.
Holy screaming shit!
I want to throw things at his face, wondering why I let him ruin such a beautiful morning.
If only I could truly hate Chris Triton enough to cut him out of my life like a tumor.
But I’ve got way more anger howling through me that’s pointed inward.
Chris is a natural asshole. A walking contrast. A guarded beast who has to be.
He comes by it all honestly.
It isn’t fair to wish he’d change his stripes any more than I could ask a Bengal tiger to start eating vegan.
He’s right about one thing, too. It’s my choice.
Mine, and mine alone to decide whether I walk away or keep falling in love with a man who will never give me a happy ending.
Ending this summer fling while it’s just a sad, tumultuous affair feels like the smart choice. But is it the right one?
I can’t imagine cutting it off at the knees.
And I guess that’s my answer.
