I step back slow,
our hands dropping between us.
“Drink? Dessert? You look like you need something sweet in your mouth.”
He watches me, smiling without knowing it.
Then he’s shaking his head,
not knowing what to do with this.
As if he’s never had someone take care of him before.
“Come on,” I tease. “Not even pie?”
He moves before I get too far,
grabbing my wrist and hauling me back.
And then he’s pulling me between his knees,
hands on my hips,
lips brushing my ear with a grin I can feel in my spine.
And all I can think is?—
how the fuck are your hands on me,
when sixty hours ago, I walked out.
With another guy. On purpose.
After saying I didn’t want you.
And now you’re holding me
as if it never happened.
Unless this is your specialty.
Pretending. Faking. Lying.And I just can’t tell.
My chest is a fucking bass drum.
My throat’s dry, but I say it anyway?—
“So what—we're not talkin’ about Vice?
“We pretendin’ that night never happened?
“‘Cause you’re doin’ a real good fuckin’ job actin’ like it didn’t.”
He swallows hard, pulls back to meet my eyes.
But his hand’s climbing my spine,
anchoring me closer,
