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He nods. “You’re right, but I’d never jeopardize my relationship with you for her or any other woman. I promise.”
“Maybe you want to have your cake and eat it, too?”
“Wrong. I wouldn’t be pushing through these problems, begging you not to leave me, if I didn’t love you, if I wanted another woman.”
“I know,” I whisper. I take a large bite, wishing for this conversation to be over. My head needs to be clear when we sit down and have a mature talk about our relationship.
“How’s staying at Rex’s?”
“Not as disgusting as I thought it’d be. He’s actually pretty clean.”
“And the other guy? The roommate?”
I keep my focus on my eggs. “What about him?”
“Don’t play coy with me.”
I glance up at him. “What if I was fucking him?”
He flinches. “Excuse me?”
“What if I was fucking him?”
His face hardens. “Don’t fuck with me, Sierra.” His fork clangs against the plate when he drops it and circles the island, grabbing my stool and swiveling it so I’m facing him. “If you want a boy who plays beer pong with his friends and doesn’t know how to please anyone but himself, go right ahead, but we know that’s not what you want. Is it?” He rests his hands on my thighs.
My stomach turns inside out as I struggle to control my composure. “I said nothing aboutdating him. I’ve stopped confusing sex with love.”
He releases a harsh laugh. “Then, why are you here, huh? Why were you inmybed last night and not his bunk bed with Spider-Man sheets?”
“I hate you, and in case you forgot, I was taken into your bed unwillingly.”
He travels a hand up to my chin, raising it, and tightens his hand resting on my thigh, smirking. “You would’ve rather been in his bed last night?”
I gulp. “Yep.”
I’m not sure how the sneaky jerk does it, but somehow, someway, he—or his hands—convinces me to stand at the same time his mouth meets mine.
His tongue slides into my mouth, tasting like coffee and vanilla and a man I’ve missed so damn much. Our knees knock into each other’s as he backs me against the same wall we visited the first night we had sex. That memory only turns me on more.
Seconds ago, I was lying about wanting for sleeping with another man.
Now, he’s drifting his hand up my shirt, his fingers exploring my stomach.
“You want to be inmybed. Not his. You’re lying. Admit it,” he grinds out against my mouth, his hand dipping to the band of my panties, panties that are soaked and waiting for his hands, his mouth, his cock—anything of him.
I ignore him, and his hands move when I pull his sweatshorts down.
“Admit you’re lying,” he repeats, slightly pulling away.
I don’t.
He yanks up his pants, taking a step back. “Then, no dick for you.”
“Are you kidding me?” I snap, my heart picking up speed.
“Nope.” He’s fighting to control his breathing, control his hands from touching me, and there’s no controlling his erection.
I shove him back. “I don’t want to touch anyone but you, you bastard. You want to know why?” I don’t wait for him to answer. “’Cause I fucking love you!”
