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I storm past him and stop in the middle of the room. “That. Her. I couldn’t watch it! The way she was throwing herself at you. She wasn’t even playing the camera. She was playing you!” My gut wrenches with the thought.
“Don’t be stupid.”
“I’m a model. I know how it works. She wasn’t interested in anything except what’s in your fucking pants!” I wrap my arms around me like a safety net, turning. “I couldn’t fucking watch her sitting there drooling over you and shoving what are probably fake tits toward you, knowing you were looking at her. Knowing you were watching her every goddamn move!”
“I’m not interested in her!” He steps forward. “Fuck. All I see is you, Liv. Every time, it’s you!”
“That doesn’t matter!” Tears really do burn my eyes now. “You were watching her. Her…” My voice trails off on the last word.
Tyler walks toward me, and I back up until I hit the wall. With nowhere for me to run, he lays a hand on either side of my face. Leaning in, breathing harshly, each one seemingly pained, he consumes me.
“Stop,” he whispers. “Please, baby girl. Stop. Stop these stupid, irrational thoughts.”
“I’m not irrational. My addiction is irrational. My need for you, my crazy, overwhelming need for you, is irrational. But I am not.”
“You don’t think I feel the same? You don’t think I don’t bloody well need you either?” He wipes his thumbs beneath my eyes.
I look at him. Shake my head. How can he need me the way I need him?
“I do.” He steps closer, his body flat against mine. “It took everything I had to not follow you out that damn door. To stay and take pictures of that woman.”
“I would have gone,” I whisper. “If it were the other way around, I wouldn’t have been able to stay.”
“I stayed because I was made to.” He finishes his words with a firm kiss. The warmth from his mouth seeps through me from my lips to my toes. Every part of my body feels it.
“You don’t get it, do you?” I look up, my eyes wet. I can feel the sting every time I blink.
“Yes, I do. I get it.”
I wrap my arms around his wrists and pull them down. “No, you don’t. What if I get like this every time you shoot another woman? That happens, what, four times a week, at least? It’s been five days and I’m already falling apart over it. This isn’t normal.”
“And when you go for the Balfour shoot in two weeks? Then what, Liv? I know the guy shooting it. How do you think I’ll feel knowing you, my bitch, my girlfriend, my Liv, is on a beach in front of some other knobhead while he takes her picture?”
“I’m not shooting in two weeks.”
His lips curl up. “Yes, you are. Sheila just didn’t call you yet. You got the campaign. And while you’re on a beach in fucking Mexico in a fucking bikini in front of some fucking knob, I’m stuck here, waiting for you to get back.”
I can’t even be happy. I can’t be thrilled about getting the campaign. All I can hear is the thickness in his voice. The one he’s trying to hide.
“You are mine, Liv. Don’t ever doubt that. Every part of you is mine. And I’m yours. Every part of me is yours. Don’t doubt that either.”
I bury my face into his chest. He’s right. We belong to each other, even if it is in the most fucked-up way. In a way that makes no sense at all.
“I don’t doubt it,” I whisper into him. “I never doubt it. Not when I feel this way. I can’t. It’s impossible, Ty. I can’t not believe it.”
“Then listen to it. Please, baby girl. Please just fucking listen to it when I make you crazy.”
“You don’t make me crazy. Other people make me crazy.”
He laughs softly. His chest rumbles and vibrates beneath my cheek, and I find myself smiling a little. I love the sound of his laugh.
“I take offense at that. Don’t you know I wake up every morning and figure out a thousand ways to make you go crazy?” he asks, kissing the top of my head.
I squeeze his waist. “I can believe that. I have a question.”
“Have you calmed down now? Can we have a conversation without shouting?”
I nod. “I just needed to get the crazy out.”
