gripping his hair,
the realization spearing into him.
“Shit…” His palm drags over his jaw. “Nah, I get it. Makes sense why you’d think that.” He takes half a step closer again.“After what we did. Then those questions you hit me with in the cab. And now I bring you to a fuckin’ hotel?”
A laugh slips out, broken in half.
“Jesus. I can’t imagine what must be goin’ through your head.”
His eyes close for half a second,
and when they open again,
guilt colors his irises.
“But if you think this was about gettin’ laid?—
“Sonny…”
He breathes out,
trying to get the words right
before he fucks it all up.
“Of course I do. Jesus, I do?—
“so bad it kills me.”
He swallows.
“But I’m after all of it, Sonny.”
I lean back against the gold bar, eyeing him.
“If I really thought you were that guy?” I say,
both my voice and gaze threatening.
“You wouldn’t be standin’ right now.”
“I believe you,” he says,
eyes jumping between mine.
“But you never gotta worry about that with me. Ever. Aight?”
I can taste the honesty in his words.
I can feel the genuine in his stare.
He means it.
Every fucking word.
And I hate him for it.
‘I’m after all of it, Sonny?’
