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He drew in a gasp before he spoke. “Cat, I swear, it was just guys talking shit. It wasn’t what I really —”
I pinched his ears, needing him to be quiet for a moment. I despised the panic in his voice, but it proved that what I had thought about Max was true.
The bitter voice inside me triumphed, knowing I’d been right all along. I should never have trusted him.
I kept my thumbs circling. I couldn’t speak. The swollen chest that came before a panic attack was building. I didn’t want him to see how deeply he’d damaged me.
I’d listened to the message on repeat, lying in the broken glass, looking around the tatters of my life, and trying to comprehend why he would do it. Goss had made it clear from the beginning that I was a distraction and needed to go. His spiteful comments had left barbs, but I never thought he would have gone so far. I played the video constantly for months, torturing myself, trying to match up my memories of Max’s confessions of love to the voice on the recording.
I looked at him, tipping his head further back, loving how he panted and rolled his hips, his knuckles white against the arms of the chair. Was it really so easy to get him going?
We used to lie in bed together as I traced his earrings. There was a story to every one of them. He said he wouldn’t pierce his body just to look cool. It had to have meaning, a purpose. Nestled in the lobes of his ears were two silver spiders. I didn’t have to ask what they were for.
There were cases of women who’d torn ears off their attackers as easily as ripping pages from a binder. I contemplated it. After all, it was only meat.
It would be suitable revenge for the ten years he’d left me alone to ache and cry and try not to miss his closeness.
I followed the lines of piercings with my fingers. There were ones I remembered — the two diamond studs for his parents, the electric green plugs for his guitar — as well as ones I’d forgotten and ones I’d never seen before. The spiders were cute, but what drew my attention were the ten gold rings riding the top of his right ear. I paused. They were definitely new. He’d refused to get rings on his ears back then, said they were too uncomfortable to sleep on. My thumb reached for them, tracing the bands of gold. He tilted his head into my hand and groaned as I tugged them.
“They’re yours.” He was almost breathless, his cheeks red, his lips wet. “One for each year since you left.”
Oh no.
No.
I don’t want to hear that.
I was a sucker for romance. It was why I fell for Max so hard when we first met. I used to believe love was the answer to life’s problems. I wanted someone who would treat me like a queen, and Max had ticked all the boxes. He wrote me songs, brought me flowers, and showered me with love and praise. He made love to me like I was the reason he existed, and I thought we’d never change. It was why I broke so hard when I realised it had all been a lie.
And he knew that. He knew exactly how to get me going.
I let out a small breath as my heart clenched and my stomach dropped. It was the smallest puff, but he caught it. Our eyes snapped together, and the tension humming between us cracked. We both felt it. It bloomed around us and shook itself out in our matching breaths. Suddenly, there was no him and me, and it wasn’t history we were racing to confront. It was this, here, now, between our lips and our hands and our thighs.
I had a choice, and I stupidly listened to the part of me that rested my palm against his cheek and took his face in my hands. Lost in the moment, his skin warm under mine, my thumb caressed those gold rings, falling into each other’s eyes as I drew closer.
“I love these marks so much. I stare at them every morning,” he said.
Somehow, his fingers were on his throat, his thumbs reaching up to stroke the back of my hands.
My grip tightened, my mouth growing wet as I held back the need to lick every inch of him, claim him again in my territory. Not a glasshouse anyone could use.
“You’re engaged.” My voice was hoarse.
He was tying himself to Bunny. It was why he was in my office. Not for this, but for her.
How had I grown so needy? I’d forgotten about the roughness of his finger pads the last time we were together, so focused on other things. I’d forgotten how the hard skin from years of playing guitar clashed with the smooth lines of my body.
I was moving closer, bending down as he strained towards me.
“It’s a sham.” his breath whispered on my lips. “It’s just a publicity stunt. It means nothing, I promise.”
I couldn’t believe his promises anymore. Even though it would be so good to let go and trust him, Bunny’s feelings were at stake as well. I was already betraying her by wanting him.
He looked worn down, as tired as I felt. Part of me hoped he was being eaten away by the same need escaping from my poorly constructed prison. One break, one lapse in judgement, and it would be free to wreak havoc on my life. Here was its chance. Here, with Max’s soft face clutched between my shaking hands, tasting his scent, sinking into those brown specks of light suspended in his green eyes, his tongue darting to his plump lips, almost tasting me. It was dangerous. I had to stop.
“This thing with Bunny is all for show. It’s business.” He gripped my wrists, like he had when I was choking him. “Cat, please. I need you so much. It’s driving me crazy. Just give me some relief, baby, anything, please.”
I hated the flush staining my cheeks, angry at my unfaithful heart, my pussy betraying me along with every other part of me that wanted so, so badly, with everything I had, to take his lips. The small taste I’d had of his chin at the party, the rough scratch of barely-there stubble on my tender tastebuds hadn’t been enough.
