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I’m stuck where I am. I can’t get away. I don’t know what to do or where to go, but right now, I am so angry that I can’t even speak.
“You smell like strong perfume, and you’ve got glitter all over your face and neck. Please step away from me.”
He doesn’t.
Instead, he has the audacity to smile.
He smiles right in my face, and I wish I could be a violent person because I would be right this second. I would be so violent that he would be begging me to stop. And I don’t understand my reaction.
I’m so damn angry, and it’s not like we’ve even known each other long, let alone been together long. I can count on my fingers the number of times we’ve even had sex. I don’t know much about him past his name, that his parents were never married, he didn’t know who his father was until later in life, and that his mother rivals mine in the piece-of-shit lifestyle.
“Had some keg deliveries tonight,” he murmurs, although he is acting as though this is funny. It’s absolutely not. “One of them was to the strip club.”
“And you stayed a while?” I ask.
He hums, laughing softly as he does and leans forward, his lips hovering above mine. I find nothing about this funny at all. In fact, I want to push him away and walk away, but he’s bigger than me, and I know he won’t budge.
“Are you jealous, sweetness?” he asks, his voice on the verge of laughter and full of what I can only assume is condescendence.
Deciding that I’ve had enough of this, of him, of this whole thing, I lift my hands between us, place my palms against his chest, and push. Just like I thought, he’s too strong for me to push away. Instead, he moves his face even closer to mine and hums as his mouth touches mine again.
“Fuck, you are, aren’t you?”
I think about telling him to fuck off, but I think he would like that even more, so I don’t say a word, and I certainly do not kiss him back. He pushes his hips against my belly, and I feel his hard length. Yes. He indeed does enjoy this. And I hate myself in this moment because my belly clenches at the feel of his hardness.
Elvis reaches down, grabs hold of my hips, and before I realize what’s happening, he’s set my ass on the edge of the counter. With his hips between my thighs, now his length is at my center, and I can’t hold back the moan that escapes.
He chuckles against my lips. I hate how cocky he is, and at the same time, I love it.
“I’m not,” I lie.
He shifts his head back slightly, his eyes searching mine. “You are. You wanna know what happened?” he asks.
I don’t.
But I do.
Instead of answering him, I stare straight ahead into his eyes and narrow my gaze on his. Staying silent, I stare at him and wait. He’s going to say something, I know he is, and I’m not going to like it. I can already tell.
“I had a rough late afternoon. I needed to unwind and have a beer. Piston, Gnaw, and I delivered to the strip club last and then sat down at a table,” he says. But he doesn’t stop there because he’s on a mission to make me jealous or whatever, so he continues. “I had a couple beers and a couple lap dances, then I came here to find you cozied up to Atomic.”
“Cozied?” I ask.
I’m unsure that he’s actually said this to me, that he’s essentially trying to turn all of this around on me. I’m not going to let him do that, though. That’s not what I want in a relationship, and if that’s what he’s bringing to the table, I’m fine being single.
“We had dinner. I cleaned your fucking room and did your laundry all evening. I was hungry. The party was wild. He saw me and asked me if I was hungry. You don’t want me to converse with anyone? Not even the leader of your club?” I ask. “Fine.”
There is a moment of silence. He doesn’t back away the way I expect him to, though. Instead, he watches me for a moment longer, his gaze searching. At least his smile has died slightly, and I wonder if he feels guilty at all.
I hope he does.
I hope he swims in that guilt until his fingers get all pruney.
“I don’t like to see you with other men. I was jealous,” he says, his voice softer than I’ve ever heard before. “I accused you of being jealous because that’s exactly how I was feeling.”
I could be a smart-ass, but I decide against it. I suck in a breath and nod my head. “I’m not sure that I like you going to strip clubs, but I know this is the way your life is.”
His gaze searches mine, and I’m not sure what I expect him to say, but what I don’t expect is a single nod and for him to shift closer, for his lips to touch mine, and then for him to speak against my mouth.
