She lifted her chin. “Maybe I like the attention. Besides…you’re no different.”
“You know? You’re right, Ellie,” I snarled, pressing her against the wall. “Maybe I am no better than those guys, but they don’t want you the way I do. They want a story they can brag about over bourbon at their next goddamn tee time.”
I dipped my head, lips grazing the shell of her ear.
“But me?” My hand slid down her waist, fingers flexing just enough to coax a gasp from her lips. “I want you. All of you.” I dragged my mouth down her jaw as I spoke. “I don’t want the version they fantasize about—the pretty, untouchable image they’ve made up in their heads. I want Ellie. Not the fantasy. Not the image.You. The woman who’s scared shitless to let anyone in. The one who’s so real, I lose my damn mind.”
“Oh,” she whispered.
I inched back and tilted her chin toward me. “I want the part of you that stops pretending you don’t feel this. The part that wants me just as bad.”
Our breaths tangled in the space between us, hers shaky, mine already uneven.
“So maybe I’m just like them, because yeah, I do want to fuck you. God, I really want to fuck you, but not for a story.”
“I hate you,” she said.
“No, you don’t.”
“You’re just jealous,” she rasped.
“Damn right I am,” I growled. “I show up after you text me and find you laughing with some guy like he had a fucking chance?—”
“He didn’t,” she snapped. “You think I want some fanboy with a spray tan? I don’t!”
I stepped back. “Then what do you want?”
She blinked up at me, breathless and off-balance, gorgeous in all the ways that undid me.
“You.”
That word hit me harder than any tackle I’d ever taken. “You literally just told me you hated me.”
“Ugh, shut up. You’re so hot, and you’re so nice, and I don’t want to think right now.” Her hands pressed to my chest, sliding up slowly. Her eyes dropped to my mouth, voice low. “Stop thinking, just for a second.”
Her lips hovered over mine, and fuck, I wanted to give in. Every inch of me ached to take her, to drown in her. Instead, I gripped the back of her neck, gently but firmly, holding her in place.
Because she’d already pushed me away twice.
“You’re drunk,” I whispered. “You don’t know what you’re asking for.”
“I’m fine,” she breathed, desperation creeping into her voice. “I know what I want.”
I shook my head slowly, forehead resting against hers. “No, you think you do, but you don’t. You’re tipsy, pissed off, and trying not to feel again.”
Her expression faltered. “I won’t.”
I cupped her cheek as my thumb brushed across her mouth. “You want me?” I murmured. “Then want me sober. Want me when you remember exactly what you’re asking for.”
Her eyes searched mine.
The elevator dinged. The doors slid open, and she stepped out, heels clicking on the pavement, her head held high. I stood there, choking down the yes I so desperately wanted to give her.
THIRTY-NINE
Sawyer
The cool nightair hit us as we stepped into the parking garage, Ellie stumbling beside me.
