“Sorry, I was distracted by that giant dick you like shoving down my throat,” he said, and sent another fruit sailing toward my hip.
“You should be thankful it’s not your ass,” I said, and aimed a lime at his crotch.
It missed, and he pinned me with a fierce gaze, his shoulders squared, and his arm extended in my direction. “Don’t you dare,” he warned. “I will take youdown, little girl.”
Of course, I fired the last three limes at the same target. He was quick, and rushed toward me as I threw, twisting and shifting his body to avoid the assault. He tackled me to the ground, his weight heavy on my hips as he anchored my hands over my head. I gulped, praying he wouldn’t rock forward and press his cock to my center because a girl—even a bossy, bitchy girl who knew how to bury all her feelings under a mountain of guilt and control it all—could only take so much.
“You’re a vicious little gremlin sometimes, you know that?” he murmured. “And now that you’ve worked that shit out of your system, we’re going to talk.”
A groan rumbled in his throat, a roll of thunder that rattled between us, and I held myself rigid, bracing for the bolt of lightning that was sure to come. His lips landed on my neck, and in quick succession, I flinched and tilted my head to give him better access. I couldn’t be more conflicted; I wanted him but we were wrong for each other in every possible way. It didn’t matter that our anatomy did nice things when it came together.
“If you have to hold me down, it doesn’t exactly qualify as a free-flowing conversation, commando. You’re teetering into the land of interrogation. Coercion, even.”
“Yeah? All this time, I thought you liked it,” he said, his teeth scraping over my skin. There wasn’t much I could refuse when I had two hundred pounds of hard, neck-kissing man on top of me. “You’re probably thinking about me holdingout.” He rocked his hips against me, and that was the cock I missed having in my life. “That’s it. You hate it when I holdout. You still love it when I hold youdown.”
There was always a tipping point when Will and I were together, a moment that crossed the line from sparring into sex. I was standing on that line now, and though the inertia of this night was pushing us forward, I leaned back. “Please. Just tell me why you came.”
Will sensed the shift, pulling away from my neck. “You keep asking that as if you don’t know. I might not have arrived on time, but I promised you I was coming back.”
“I’m not going to change,” I said. “And I’m not going to choose.”
“Shannon, I’ve never asked you to change.” He sat back on his knees, smoothing his hands down his legs. “You’re the only one who thinks you have to choose.”
That wasn’t how I remembered it. I remembered my universe torn apart at the seams, and I remembered failing at the one thing I cared about most.
I caught a glimpse of the living room. “You better get started cleaning this up,” I said. “I don’t want lime juice stains on my rugs.”
His eyes met mine in challenge, and that spark of something—oh, the line between love and hate had never been so fine—that I still held for him urged me to give up the fight. He saw it too.
“The Douchelord was a placeholder. A seat-filler. I don’t blame you for a minute of it, but I need to know it’s over. If it’s not, I’m going to find him and I’m going to end it for you.”
“It’s precious that you’re so hot for Gerard.” I nodded, shifting to my feet and heading down the hallway. “Not that it’s any of your business, but he’s back on the market. I wouldn’t put any energy into chasing him, though. I don’t think you’re his type. He likes them young.”
Will flopped to the side and dragged a hand over his face. “Yeah, I’m gonna kill him.”
My heart waspounding pounding poundingwhen I closed the door behind me, and all these emotions were crawling their way to the surface. But I didn’t want to fight them anymore.
My clothes hit the floor while I changed into a cozy set of flannel pajamas. I scrubbed the makeup from my face and tied my hair back, all while telling myself that I could handle boys—even commando boys—better than anyone.
The door clanged behind me when I emerged from my bedroom, but Will didn’t move. He was flat on his back with a hand pressed to his shoulder and his eyes closed. “I’m watchingOrange is the New Black. You probably won’t like it but you’re welcome to join me as long as you can promise you won’t wrestle me to the ground again.”
“Will you be throwing anything?” he called.
“Haven’t decided yet,” I responded. I tossed a bag of popcorn in the microwave and poured some wine. “Aren’t commandos supposed to be able to handle a few flying objects?”
Will popped to his feet when the microwave sounded, and he followed me into the den, his gaze skeptical. “I’ve never had a lime thrown at me before.”
I pointed at the far end of the leather sofa while I queued up the series to the last episode I watched. “You can sit there.”
“And where are you sitting?” he asked.
“Over here.” I wedged into the opposite end, tight against the armrest.
“I’d rather be on your side,” he said. “With you. And the popcorn.”
I hugged the bowl to my chest. “Get your own.”
“You beat the shit out of me with citrus and called me a dirty hooker. The least you can do is share your popcorn.”
