“Dammit, you scared me. Why didn’t you knock?”
“I knocked.”
His eyes glance at the bump under my blankets.
“Must have been an excellent date,” he comments, his voice thick with fury.
“It was.” I lie. “Next time knock harder before you just waltz in.”
“Because you might be busy?”
This time he points to the concealed vibrator.
“Uh, yeah, I might be,” I retort sarcastically. “Can’t a girl masturbate in peace?”
He takes another step forward and stops to run his hand through his thick, dark tresses.
“You shouldn’t be going on dates with Samuels,” he says after a deep breath.
“I thought we talked about this. You can’t protect from everything by keeping me from doing anything.”
“That’s not what I’m doing.”
I slide one of my legs out from beneath the covers not only because it’s hot but because I’m being passive aggressive as fuck. I want to see what Rush will do, if anything. He doesn’t want me, but he doesn’t want anyone else to have me either? Is that the game we’re playing now?
“Then what are you doing, Rush?”
Rush glances at my leg and bites the corner of his lip.
“He’s not serious, Mia.”
“I don’t expect a marriage proposal anytime soon, but Tiger seems serious enough to me.”
“Don’t call him that,” he says through gritted teeth.
“That’s his name.”
“His name is fucking Samuels.”
“I call him Tiger.”
He’s gotten so close to the edge of the bed now I can see the two blue veins in his neck pulsing. He hasn’t been this angry with me in a long time, and I’m not even sure how we got here.
My heart is fluttering like the wings of a butterfly. I know exactly why, but I’ve been fighting it for so long I don’t know what to do to tamper it down in this moment.
I’ve been dutifully by Rush’s side for years and not because we’re friends or because he’s the only person I completely trust, but because subconsciously I’ve been waiting.
Waiting for him to see me.
Waiting for him to want me.
Waiting for him to choose me.
My eyes are wide as I pull the covers up closer to my chin. There’s no farther I can run from him.
He leans in with his hands firmly tucked in his gray sweatpants pockets and takes a long whiff of my neck.
“You smell like hot dogs, grass, and the inside of his fucking car.”
