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“Wait, Kenz,” he said, reaching for me, trying to stop me.
“Don’t touch me,” I snapped, wetness tracking down my cheeks, shame filling me.
“Just let me talk to you.”
I shook my head, refusing to look at him. How we’d changed positions, huh? Earlier I’d begged him not to shut me out but now I was the one who couldn’t meet his gaze. “Let me go.”
“You need to listen to me—”
“No! You don’t get to turn me down like thisagainand sit there to tell me how I should be grateful for it.”
“It’s not like that,” he said, his hand tight around my arm.
The clatter made me glance over my shoulder to find Hayden standing on the porch, peering into the darkness toward us. Vance released my arm—he probably didn’t want to get caught like this—and I took the chance to flee from the car, from Vance, from all the things my body still craved that I couldn’t have.
When I tried to rush past Hayden, he reached out to catch me. I avoided his touch, terrified that I’d shatter if I felt the warmth of someone else, the thing I wanted so badly but couldn’t have.
He didn’t try again, lifting his hand as though to prove he wouldn’t grab me. I turned away, afraid to open my mouth. I had no idea what I’d say if I did that.
Instead, I went past him and rushed up the stairs, for the safety of my room, leaving that mess behind.
Yet again, I’d made a fool of myself, hadn’t been good enough, hadn’t been enough for someone else.
No matter how much I grew, how far I came, I was never good enough, was I?
Chapter Seven
Kenz
My head ached, but it was nothing a little ibuprofen couldn’t handle. Between that and water, I felt mostly human.
Mostly.
I couldn’t erase the night before from my mind, and without even meaning for it to happen, flashes of the events would come back to me. My cheeks would heat, my heart race and my body tingle. It was like the ghost of a memory teased me, as though I could feel Vance’s lips on me even twelve hours later.
Worse? It kept this simmering heat inside me, one I couldn’t rid myself of. I’d thought about trying to take care of myself the night before, but pride had stopped me. It had felt far too pathetic to get turned down then get myself off on the memory of it.
No thank you!
So instead, I pretended to be fine as I cleaned up the living room. They still had a housekeeper stopping by—always when I was gone—but cleaning relaxed me. However, since they had a professional, there hadn’t been much to do.
It meant I was on my hands and knees wiping down the baseboards in the corner, since that was the only dust I could find anywhere.
“You don’t have to do that.” Char’s voice had me sitting back on my heels to glance over my shoulder at him. He sat on the edge of the coffee table, watching me as though I was a very stupid dog digging in the yard.
“I know I don’t have to.”
“So why are you, then?”
Telling him it because I was sexually frustrated was probably not the best answer, so I jerked my gaze away as I answered. “I’m just feeling wound up, and I needed something to do. Cleaning feels like putting the world to rights again.”
“Next time, feel free to clean up my room. I don’t do it nearly enough and I don’t let the cleaners in there.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t like strange people in my space.”
“But you’ll let me?” I lifted an eyebrow as I looked back over at him, making sure to keep a teasing tone in my voice. “Does that mean you like me at least a little?”
