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“Alani,” he snaps from behind the shower curtain. “Now.”
I slow blink at the closed curtain, wanting to tell him to fuck off and stop commanding me, that maybe if he used his big boy words, I’d know what he wanted, but my body moves as if he’s holding my remote.
I step inside, the warmth of the water rushing over me and relaxing me almost instantly.
He doesn’t say a word as he runs a bar of soap over my skin, the bubbles tickling and flowing down my body. I spread my legs some at his insistence, but he just cleans me. What kind of man washes a woman’s naked body without spending an extra second between her legs? It’s very focused and economical, and I hate every second of it.
His cock is still hard, and it’s the only thing that makes me believe he’s turned on.
“Fuck me,” I beg when his hands trail over my breasts.
He ignores me, urging my head under the water and dribbling shampoo into it once it’s soaked through.
“Donavan?” I whisper, my eyes closing once the threat of suds in them becomes more real.
I’m nearly liquid, my body relaxed, when he rubs the shampoo through my hair, but he doesn’t spend an extra second before tipping my head back and rinsing it.
I open my eyes once he takes another step back, and I see it then, the war between wanting to touch me and wanting to escape.
I reach for him, but he pulls his hips back before I can wrap my hand around his cock.
“Are you really saying you don’t want to fuck me?”
His eyes narrow as he watches me.
“No condom in here,” he grunts.
“We didn’t use a condom the last time,” I argue.
“And that never should’ve happened. That didn’t work out for me so well once before.”
My hand falls to my side. Why the idea that he’s had unprotected sex with other women rubs me the wrong way I’ll never know. I went through the motions after we were together last. I feel a little obsessed with this man, but I’m also not an idiot. I was tested after our last encounter and everything came back fine. Even the pregnancy test was negative, even though that made me a little sad. It would’ve been crazy to be happy he knocked me up, but I couldn’t exactly control that response.
The look on his face is telling a different story. What I first thought was him saying he fucks other women bare, is speaking more of tragedy or like he’s missing out on something.
“You have a child?” It’s the only reasoning I can come up with right now.
His jaw flexes, real irritation on his face, and I can tell my question struck a nerve that doesn’t get touched very often.
His look grows distant as if he’s thinking of someone else, and I fucking hate him for it. How dare he stand here with me, being the one to strip me naked and insist I join him in the shower, and then go all reminiscent, thinking of someone else.
Instead of arguing because there’s no fucking point with this man, I climb out of the shower without another word. Let him stand in here and jack off to the thoughts of someone else. Maybe I should consider myself lucky he didn’t fuck me while thinking of her.
I grab a towel and wrap it around my body before leaving the bathroom, ignoring him when I hear him follow behind me.
Chapter 26
Donavan
A huge part of me is screaming for me to leave it alone. She’s wanting attention, and not the good kind. The problem is, the attention she wants, that angry hate-fuck, is exactly what I want to give.
She’s pissed about my comment, but she doesn’t get to be mad about Maya. She doesn’t get to throw attitude my way because of my past. She doesn’t have any right to feel offended by her presumptions.
I clench my hands into fists as I stalk behind her into the bedroom, the repeated motion doing nothing to staunch my anger. I have this urge to wrap my hands around her throat, but I’m not so sure I’d let go once I feel her warm skin under my palms.
I consider making her leave, but fuck if I don’t want her here, and that pisses me off as well.
She stands in the middle of the room, her eyes wandering over the sparse furnishings, and I wonder what’s going through her head. Is she wondering why there isn’t much here? Does she think this is my home?
Before she can turn around and ask more questions she won’t like the answer to or get a bigger attitude, I grip a handful of her wet hair and step in closer.
She wanted this, and she’ll probably get it harder than ever because she’s made me want it too.
