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He swallows. “Not that.”
His rejection is painful and embarrassing. It cuts to the quick and makes me want to lash out at him.
I hate how immovable he is. So staid and fucking reliable, so committed to doing what he thinks is the right thing for me.
Tears stream down my face. I nod and climb off of him. “All right.”
He lies there as I climb off the bed and snatch my robe off the floor. My mind and heart race as I pull it on and shove my arms through the sleeves. I’m angry at them for being so soft and lovely. I want to scrape barbed wire across my skin, not feel their suffocating softness.
“Where are you going?” Milo finally asks as I walk around the foot of the bed.
“To find someone who will.”
As soon as the words are out, my stomach rocks. It feels final, like a step I can’t come back from.
Milo rips the blankets back. “Like hell you are.”
I don’t have to go far, and we both know it.
I rip open the bedroom door. Fear crawls up my spine when I hear Milo’s heavy footsteps behind me, but I know he won’t hurt me. It’s just an instinct to feel fear.
Maybe even a hope.
I want him to be angry at me for saying that. I want him to grab me and throw me up against the wall, to grab my throat and close in on me so I can’t move away from him, then nudge my robe open so he can look at my body. I want to be completely fucking helpless, and then I want him to shove his cock in me right here in the hallway and show me who I belong to.
Stop me. Hurt me. Punish me.
But, deep down, I know he won’t.
“Kennedy.”
His tone is harsh as he grabs my arm and turns me around. There’s fire in his ice-blue eyes and it lights a match, kindling hope inside me. Maybe Icanpush him, make him lose that control he holds onto so tight.
I do, literally. I reach out and push at his bare chest to shove him away from me. “What’s wrong, Milo? Don’t want to fuck me, but don’t want anyone else to, either?”
“You are not leaving this goddamn house in that robe or in this state of mind. I don’t care if I have to lock your little ass in a fucking closet to keep you safe, you’re not—”
“I don’t have to leave the house,” I interrupt, backing toward Jonathan’s closed bedroom door.
His eyes widen as my threat clicks in his mind.
I thought he knew what I meant when he launched out of bed and came after me, but I can see he just got it.
He stiffens, the fear going out of his eyes, replaced by something closer to dread. “Kennedy, get back in my fucking bedroom right now. We will work this out between us.”
“Make me,” I challenge.
His hands curl into fists at his sides. “Do you know how fucked up it is to ask me to be rough with you after what you’ve just been through tonight?”
“Yes,” I say, tears stinging behind my eyes.
Yes, I know how fucked up it is. I don’t need to be told. I don’t need to be judged.
The door behind me cracks open.
My stomach rocks, and a hot tear runs down my face.
“Kennedy, don’t do this,” Milo says, but the bastard doesn’t take a single step toward me.
