I warned her again and again, I told her I wasn’t safe. I laid out the rules like a law that I believed in. Then I let her cross every line I drew. I let her touch me, and Ilet myself want it.Yeah, somewhere in the back of my sick, fractured mind, I wanted her to break the rules.
I was a fucking coward. I was being cruel, stringing her along like this. I had never been so weak. I tried to pretend this could mean nothing while I clung to every second of it like it might save me. I was drowning and instead of pulling away, I was dragging her under with me.
I leaned both bloodied hands against the sink again, trying to push back the tide inside me, the shame and fury tangled so tight, I couldn’t tell them apart anymore.
What kind of man lets a girl like that believe he’s worth saving? What kind ofanimalclimbs between her thighs like he deserves to worship her? Tastes her like communion, says her name like a goddamn prayer, then leaves her to sit out there alone thinkingshedid something wrong?
Me. That’s who.
She thought she could handle me, that I was broken in a way she could fix, but she didn’t understand because she hadn’t seen the whole ugly truth yet. I’m not broken, because broken things can be repaired. I’mengineeredfor damage. These things she thinks are flaws are programming.
She would see it soon enough.
And when that happened, she’d hate me for not staying away.
Just like I hated myself now.
Chapter twenty-nine
Eden
“Something Good”
Thesilenceinthehotel room was suffocating while I sat on the edge of the bed with my arms wrapped around my knees, wearing the t-shirt I’d pulled on with trembling hands. My skin still tingled where he’d touched me like he wanted me and needed this, but then he’d disappeared into the bathroom and left me alone in the aftermath. The sound of running water had stopped a few minutes ago, and there had been no movement since. Just that heavy and endless quiet.
My heartbeat felt too loud in my ears. I couldn’t tell what I was supposed to feel. Humiliation, anger, maybe shame – but mostly, it was just ache. In my chest, ache in my legs, ache between them: raw and trembling from how close I’d come to something that felt like everything. He left me teetering on a cliff edge, and I didn’t know how to climb back.
I stared at the door. Part of me wanted to go to it, knock softly, whisper something through the crack.Tell me you’re still in there. Tell me I didn’t imagine what just happened.Because I’d seen the look in his eyes when he pulled away. He hated himselffor giving in, and whatever passed between us was a mistake he was already trying to erase.
The bathroom door opened and I jerked my head up so fast it made my neck ache. He stepped out into the room, shoulders tense. His hands were bleeding. How many times would he split open his knuckles? His eyes met mine, and my gut wrenched. He looked at me with the uncertainty of a man who didn’t know whether to run or fall to his knees; the war inside him hadn’t ended in that bathroom.
I stood slowly, heart pounding. I didn’t speak because I didn’t trust my voice not to crack.
His gaze dropped, and he scrubbed a hand over his face like he wanted to peel it off and start over.
“I hurt you,” he said hoarsely. “I didn’t mean to.”
“You didn’t hurt me,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady, “not like that.”
“But I will.” His voice was raw, as if each word cost him something. “I don’t know how to make you understand. I will. That’s who I am.”
“No,” I said, shaking my head. “That’s who you think youhaveto be.”
He looked at me like I was speaking a language he’d never heard.
“Why aren’t you angry?” he asked.
Iwas. I was furious, hurt, confused. None of that could compete with the truth twisting in my chest. Ifeltfor him, wanted him. Not just the way he kissed me, or the way he looked at me when he let his walls slip. I wanted all of it. Even the part he thought I should run from.
“I should be,” I said, “but I’m not.”
He flinched as though it hurt to hear that.
His brow furrowed with something too heavy for one man to carry. I stepped forward slowly, and he didn’t move. He didn’t even breathe.
I reached for his hand, and he didn’t pull away, not this time.
I lifted it to look at the angry red slices across his knuckles. He watched me in silence, gaze pinned to mine like he was afraid I would vanish if he blinked.
