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We're further apart than before. Making it worse is that the safety I always feel in his arms fights against the reality of how messed up we are.
He murmurs in my ear, "You have all of me, pet, and you'll always be mine. I'm never letting you go. Haven't I made that clear?"
I wish I could stop the rage filling me, but I can't. I spin into him, jabbing my finger into his chest until it hurts, accusing, "You were going to have someone else—some woman—touch me. How could you do that?"
His eyes narrow into dark storms of blue. It's a look I normally crave to see. And my loins burn while the confusion and anger tornados through me.
His silence only hurts more.
I whisper, seething, "How could you?"
"I thought it's what you wanted," he claims again.
I sarcastically laugh. "What I wanted? What did I tell you when I signed the contract regarding other people?"
He remains silent.
I add, "What did I reinforce to you when you had Aria in Apartment Thirteen, claiming she was there to train me?"
His face darkens, and he spouts, "I didn't want the club to enforce rule fourteen. You know why I had Aria come that night. Stop trying to make it something it isn't. I did it for you."
I grit my teeth. I've always gone back and forth fighting the facts that I know Riggs did it for me. I know he didn't want the club to enforce rule fourteen and he thought Aria could help, but I still hate that he did it.
So I ignore his statement and push, "What did I make clear, Riggs? From the get-go, what have I always told you about inserting other people into our relationship?"
Regret bursts onto his face. His confusion, sadness, and frustration mimic my own feelings.
But I can't give him a pass. I still assert, "No one else. All I've ever said is no one else. Yet you put me on that table, restraining me for some stranger—someone who wasn't you! How could you do that to me?"
He keeps his voice low, asserting, "I told you I have never had any desire to share you."
"Then why would you do what you did tonight?" I shriek, unable to control my temper anymore.
He glances at the ceiling, his chest rising and falling as he takes deep breaths. When he finally locks his gaze back on mine, he asks, "Why were you there if you didn't want to engage with others?"
I step farther away from him and cross my arms. "I was there with Colton. Stop creating a scenario that isn't real."
"You should never have gone with him!" Riggs spouts, red flaring in his cheeks.
"My friend Colton, who's gay," I add.
"That means nothing," he declares.
More fury snowballs inside me. It gets bigger and bigger, and I remind him, "I'm only friends with him. You know this."
"I wasn't worried about Colton," he admits.
I freeze, staring at him. I try to calm myself and lower my voice. I remind him, "I told you any chance I got that I only wanted you, and you wouldn't listen to me."
He accuses, "You have no idea what thoughts were going through my mind. And you were so engaged in what was happening that you didn't even read my text message or answer my calls!"
I seethe, "I didn't bring my phone."
"I'm sure that was Colton's idea," he says snidely.
I put my hand on my hip, confessing, "I didn't take my phone because I knew I'd break down and call you."
"And why would you do that?" he shouts, his eyes blazing with fury.
