My eyes pop wide in realization, and I attempt to turn around, but firm hands stop me. My heart is thrashing against my rib cage, pounding in excitement as adrenaline charges through my veins and lust elevates my arousal to dizzy heights.
He came looking for me.
Jase is here.
Touching me. Kissing me. Holding me. Comforting me.
Does he miss me as much as I miss him? Does he walk around with a constant pain in his heart and an ache in his soul?
I need to see him. To peer into his gorgeous emerald-green eyes as I reclaim his lips. I attempt to turn around again, but he stops me once more, and my newfound hope stutters to a halt.
He won’t face me because nothing has changed.
He can never be mine.
This is as much as he can offer me.
But it’s not enough.
It never will be.
That horrific night replays in my mind, like it often has these past couple of weeks, and my heart ruptures again in my chest as the pain of his betrayal slays me anew. His arms tighten around me in the dark, holding me steady as I thrash around, desperate to get away from him before my treacherous body gives me away.
No matter how much I want this, wanthim, I can’t give in.
But it’s not that simple.
Every nerve ending on my body craves his touch, and I’m like an addict chasing a high I know isn’t good for me, but I’m struggling to resist.
I’m waging an inner battle as much as I’m fighting him.
How can I still want him after everything he has done?
My body so needs to get with the program. Determined to be stronger than my base desires, I continue fighting him, trying to escape his embrace, but it’s a weak effort, at best. My head is at war with my body and my heart, and my inebriated limbs can’t muster the appropriate strength to get away from him because my man is ripped. Tall, strong, muscular, and a force to be reckoned with.
No longeryourman, my snide inner voice reminds me.He never truly was, the voice adds, driving the knife in deeper.
No matter how futile it is, I continue to fight, thrashing around in his solid hold. “Fuck off, Jase,” I hiss. “I don’t need you. Don’t want you,” I lie. “Go back to that bitch.” I grip his arms, ready to drag my nails through his flesh if it’s the only way I can break free, but my fingers meet material. My brows knit together as I look down at the long sleeves of the dress shirt he’s wearing. Jase doesn’t dress like this. Anger churns in my gut. This isherinfluence. She’s already turning him into something he’s not.
I hate her.
As much as I hate The Luminaries and their stupid rules and traditions.
And I have a hate-love thing going on with the man currently holding me to him. I hate Jase for what he did to me, yet I can’t stop loving him. I wish there was an off switch in my heart and my head so I could bury those feelings and forget I ever loved Jason Stewart.
“Let me go,” I snap, digging my nails into his clothed arms and lashing out with my legs.
One beefy leg clamps down on mine, restricting my movement, as I sense, rather than see, him shaking his head. His lips go on the offensive, planting addictive kisses along my neck and my jawline, his teeth tugging on my earlobe before his mouth suctions on that sensitive spot just under my ear.
He isn’t playing fair.
Fuck him to the high heavens.
I am losing the battle and I know it.
If he’s so determined this is happening, maybe I’ll let it. A good hate fuck might be just what I need to sever the lingering ties to my ex. It might be good to remind him of what he has destroyed. And if it gets back toher, it’ll be the cherry on top.
Let her know she’ll never have him the way I did.
