It's not entirely a lie. I do want her. I always want her.
But I also want the version of her that melts under my hands. The one who forgets to be angry when I touch her the right way. The one whose desire I know how to own, even when everything else is slipping through my fingers.
She doesn't kiss me back. Just stands there, staring at me like she's trying to figure out what I'm doing.
"Nico."
"Yeah?"
"This isn't going to work."
"What isn't?"
"You being an asshole and then trying to seduce me into forgetting about it."
I pull back slightly. "I wasn't being an asshole."
"Yes, you were."
Silence.
I slide my hand up her side, under the hoodie she stole from me. Her skin is warm. She doesn't stop me, but she doesn't lean into it either.
"Come to bed," I murmur.
"I don't want to."
"Liar."
Her jaw tightens. "Don't."
"Don't what?"
"Don't act like you know what I want right now."
But I do know. I know her body. I know the way her breath catches when I touch her ribs, the way her eyes go soft when I pin her wrists above her head, the way she forgets everything else when I make her come.
I lean in again, mouth against her ear. "I know exactly what you want."
She shoves me back. Not hard. Just enough to create space between us.
"No," she says quietly. "You know what Iusedto want. When this was simple. When we were just two people who couldn't keep their hands off each other."
"We still are."
"Are we?"
She looks at me. Really looks at me. And I see something in her eyes I don't want to see.
Doubt.
"I'm not yours, Nico. I'm not the thing you get to use to prove something to yourself."
The words land like a punch.
I drop my hands. Step back.
She watches me for a second, then turns and walks to the bedroom.
