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I lifted my head and glared at him. “You’d had a hard couple of days. I was trying to be nice.”
“Last nightwasnice,verynice.”
“Go to hell.”
I was too embarrassed for compliments or to be fair or rational. I just wanted to get away.
“Considering I’ve finally had you, had you in three different rooms, and feel pretty fuckin’ pleased about that, I’ll let that comment slide,” he said, sounding like he was beginning to get annoyed.
“Nice of you,” I hissed.
I bucked again to get away and he rolled on top of me.
“Settle down,” he ordered.
“Get off me.”
“Right,” he clipped, (yep, definitely annoyed). “Shut up and listen to me.”
My eyes rounded with anger, about to pop out of my head. Before I could say a word, he started talking.
“First of all, back then, you were underage. No way I could touch you legally. Not the way I wanted to, anyway. There aren’t a lot of people whose opinions I care about, but your father’s is one of them. He’d have lost his mind if we’d hooked up then, because my reputation wasn’t exactly unearned.”
This was true.
I still glared at him.
He kept talking.
“It wasn’t easy to keep sayin’ no. You’re fucking gorgeous and always were. I wanted you then, but you were a wild child. Everyone knew you were a handful. I wasn’t gonna go near you until you calmed down. It might be entertaining to watch when you’re removed, but if you’d been mine, you’d have driven me up the wall. I knew myself well enough to know that.”
This might have been true, but I certainly didn’t want to hear it.
Lee wasn’t done. “Regardless of that, I intended to have you, one day, and that was always at the back of my mind. So I considered you mine even when you weren’t. It was common knowledge our families were close. Half the assholes I knew came to me tellin’ me they wanted a piece of you, the other half lyin’ about havin’ a piece. Why do you think I fought so goddamned much?”
Yikes.
Thatwas news.
He went on, “I knew I had to get my shit together before I got us together. By the time that happened, you were avoiding me. We’ve discussed this part, without much of your honest participation. This brings us to now.”
He stared at me.
I kept my mouth shut.
“You can jump in anytime you feel like it,” he invited.
Hmm, sarcasm.
“You shouldn’t have read my diary,” I snapped.
“Get over it.”
“I’m not gonna get over it. That’s personal. How I feel about you should be for me to tell you.”
He waited a beat then, “Point taken.”
That’s as far as he went. No apology and no remorse.
