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“Well, you sure don’t seem upset about it.”
“Your mom and I have had our troubles. That’s no secret, Morgan.” He rubs his fingers over his eyes then looks to me. “Your mother doesn’t know I’m aware of the affair, and I’d like to keep it that way.”
“Alrighty. So, let me get this straight. You want to make sure I don’t tell your wife that you know she’s fucking your boss.” I shake my head and hope something eventually makes sense.
“You’re just like her.” He throws his hands up and turns away from me. “Neither one of you knows when to let shit go and move on.”
How has this turned into him being frustrated with me? For once, this shit has exactly zero to do with me, but I’m still the problem.
When he goes to walk out of his office, I step in front of him. “If we’re so bad, leave us. Sticking around out of obligation is worse.”
That gets his attention and his anger going. He surges forward, his face in mine. His hand around my throat, he clasps it firmly as he slams my back against the wall. The surge of pain that shoots through my skull is nothing compared to the harsh grip he has on my windpipe. He’s squeezing tighter as I gasp for air, but I don’t let him see the fear I have that he won’t stop.
“You’re nothing but an ungrateful cunt just like your mother. If you don’t stay the fuck out of my way, I will make your life as miserable as you’ve made mine.” He grits out the words, his fingers tightening with each second until he stops talking and finally releases me. His other fist comes up, slamming into the wall right beside my head, causing me to involuntarily flinch. Son of a bitch. Why does showing him I’m scared, even if for a split second, piss me off more than anything else?
It’s a few minutes before I stoop down, grab my makeup bag off the floor, then walk to my car. The entire ride over to the hotel is a blur. Only two things strum through my psyche on repeat—he knew about the affair, and I showed fear. Neither sit well with me but showing a moment of weakness to him was worse. At least he’s making all this easier. Because there’s not any part of me that feels guilty for knowing I will make sure I take away what’s most important to him.
“Hey, where have you been?” Savannah calls out as I walk into the lobby of the hotel. We’d all checked into our rooms earlier with plans to get dressed here tomorrow before the limousine picks us up for dinner then the dance. None of that even feels pertinent at the moment.
“Had to grab my makeup.” I hold up the bag and head to the elevator as she follows behind, Neil heading our way. “We’re going to grab a midnight snack, wanna join?” She waves at a few from our group as Neil moves beside her.
“No.”
“Cade was looking for you earlier,” Neil says lowly.
“He’ll find me soon enough, I’m sure.” It’s not the best time, and I’m surprised he’s not latched onto Neil’s hip, following them to grab something to eat. I soon find out why when I get to my room.
His dumb ass is perched against my door. Motherfucker. I cannotright now. Then again, maybe this might be the best time because I need to release some anger. “Oh, no. Why are you up here? Your little buddy is down there, all unprotected and alone, Cade.” I let my annoyance show through as I slide the card in the door, then push it open. He shifts to the side, stands, and follows me in the room. His quiet, sullen demeanor palpable.
“What?” Shit, I can’t fight with a silent, gloomy moron. “Just say your fucking piece and leave.” I toss my makeup bag on the dresser then pull off my top and bra, slide down my skirt and boy shorts, then head to the bathroom. Only he stops me before I get to there.
“What the fuck happened to you?”
I let too much show on the exterior. Shit. I felt a natural reflex of sucking in my breath as his fingertips trail along the spot that was still sensitive and burning on my neck. And Cade’s tender trace made it worse. Fuck. I don’t want tender. I don’t want him to touch me like that. I don’t want him to touch me at all. I just want to rid my skin of it all. “Don’t fucking touch me.” I slap his hand away and shove past him into the bathroom. I turn the water on in the shower and don’t wait for it to warm up before stepping under the stream. After a few minutes, it finally heats up, the warm water pelting against my skin feels the tiniest bit comforting.
But this son of a bitch doesn’t know when to quit. He steps into the shower fully clothed to stand in front of me. His eyes are locked on my neck as he says, “I want to know who did this.”
“It’s none of your fucking business. Besides”—I take a deep breath as I lie—“I doubt you’d really like the details about someone better at choking me than you.”
He doesn’t move for a few seconds, then he takes a step forward, his hands reaching up to grip my hips as he pulls me against him. “Stop lying. Stop hurting me just to fucking hurt me, Morgan. Why do you keep pulling me in only to fuck me over again?”
“Pulling you in?” I laugh, lean back, and rub my hands through my hair as the water saturates it. “Last time I checked, you’re the pitiful fool in here begging for more.”
His voice is low, throaty as he bends down, his lips on my shoulder as he says, “I’m not going to keep doing this. I’m not going to let you push me away. I know you want this.” He leans back and pulls his shirt off, then his chest hits mine as his arm loops around my lower back. His mouth is on mine before I can think twice, and then I’m kissing him back. His hands skim over my skin before he breaks away to kiss down my neck. “Tell me who hurt you.”
“You did,” I stupidly admit aloud.
“I’m sorry.”
No. No, he is not doing this. I laugh because if I don’t, I’ll cry. And not because of him. I think it’s because of everything. It’s too much. He’s too much. And I don’t want him to touch me. To apologize. To care. To try and save me.
I keep laughing as I say, “You’re not just pitiful, you’re pathetic.” I feel him tense under my fingers as I dig my nails into his shoulders. “Now, get the fuck out of my face before I really hurt you. Because so far, I haven’t even tried that hard.”
He keeps his hands on my skin as he leans back. He looks to my neck and back to my eyes. “I don’t buy it. The hateful bitch who wants me to leave her alone. So, keep trying. Because there’s nothing you can do to hurt me worse. There’s nothing you can say to make me hate you more or want you less. I’m maxed out on both.” There’s a hint of a smirk as he leans his head towards mine, feathering a way-too-tender kiss over my mouth.
“You asked for it. So, remember that.” I give him a soft kiss, then lean back to look him in the eye. “But I don’t care how much you hate me, I’ll always hate you more. I have ever since the moment I realized you left me.”
“I didn’t leave you, Morgan. Fuck.” He pulls me tighter to him. “How can I make you understand that? I had shit I was dealing with.”
