Good.
If he was angry, maybe this wouldn’t hurt as bad. I wouldn’t feel the persistent ache in my chest whenever I thought about our expiration date. I could push aside every instinct that cried out to hold him tight and never let him go.
“I overheard you the other night on the phone,” I said, lowering my voice but still holding onto my courage. He stopped pacing and looked at me like he was trying to remember. I leaned forward and met his eyes, reaching my hand out and looping my finger in his belt loop. I wanted him to look at me as I told him. I wanted him to see my pain.
“I believe your words were: I’m in hell here. I can’t wait to fucking get back home. There’s no connection.” I paused for a second to let the words sink in, my eyes never leaving his. His eyes narrowed, and he sucked in a breath, shaking his head a fraction of an inch like he couldn’t believe I overheard his careless words. He put his hand over mine and stepped closer, and cradling my head in his hands.
“We were just each other’s itch to scratch, right, Mark? Nothing more than fuck-buddies. That’s all this was,” I said, spitting venom in his direction as I remembered how casually he tossed his words around about us like garbage.
“You have no idea what the hell you’re talking about, Jenna,” he hissed through tight-pressed lips, running his thumbs over my cheeks. His actions were contradicting his voice and muddling my exhausted brain. “But moving without telling me? Without evening mentioning it? That’s all I need to know about how you feel. Do you think I’m a fucking joke?”
I crossed my arms and stared up at this mountain of a man, pushing his hands off me and scooting back on the couch. “You have no idea how I feel. I don’t even know. I’m a fucking joke, Mark. I’m the joke because I thought I could do casual with you. I thought I was strong enough to keep this up. But I’m not. I’m plain, awkward, boring Jenna who can’t do casual because I’ve fallen for you, Mark. And you? You can. And I get that, I do, but I’m done pretending.”
I stared at this man who’s made me feel more in the last month than I had in my entire life. This man—who was still glaring at me with a mix of anger and lust swirling across his handsome features.
His hands were fisted by his side, but his bottom lip was dented and swollen with the way he’d been worrying it between his teeth. The moment I focused on his lips, the electricity in the room fizzled and crackled, charging our emotions to ten thousand degrees.
“I’m done pretending,” I whispered to nothing at all, keeping my eyes anywhere but on him. I guess I needed the assurance that this last month meant something, if only for myself. I looked at Mark through my lashes, seeing the beginnings of something else shining through his eyes.
He wanted me.
No matter the outcome, the chemistry we had was undeniable, but I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing how much I wanted him.
How much I needed him.
But the truth was written on my face, and the truth was in my words. As soon as they crossed my lips, he knew. He knew I’d fallen when I said I was done pretending.
Now that the words were out there, some sick, twisted part of me wanted to make him hurt like I was hurting. Make him ache like it would help the hollow, desperate feeling that had overtaken my chest. I wasn’t going to make him change for me. If he didn’t want a relationship, I would make sure I burned our bridge so severely he wouldn’t have regrets. I’d be the bad guy. I’d be strong enough to end this.
“Did you fuck me because I was convenient?” I uncrossed my legs and planted them firmly on either side of him. His hands went to my hips, almost dimpling the skin as I narrowed my eyes and set my lips in a firm line. Unyielding.
He would not break me.
“No, baby. I fucked you because I couldn’t, not fuck you. Because I couldn’t let one more second pass without feeling your tight pussy surround me. Because there has been no one, and I mean no one, that I’ve ever wanted more.”
He pulled me closer, spreading my legs further and wedging himself between them. I could see his eyes looking fierce, but somewhere in the unyielding darkness, I saw a spark—the smallest sliver of light.
Below the rugged plains of his face, I saw the clench of his jaw and a tick near his left eye. He looked pissed that I called him out about his stupid conversation on the phone, but more than that, he was turned on.
And fuck, so was I.
I wasn’t sure if he heard my admission through the haze of lust I saw in the depth of his eyes, and I was a glutton for punishment because my body ached to feel him one more time.
I wanted to push him over the edge, to see him lose control. To have him take all the lust and frustration out on my body. I wanted him to snap like a rubber band. If we were going to end, I wanted to go down in flames.
I wanted to burn.
“You’re a coward,” I snarled, leaning forward and rolling my hips against him. “That’s what you won’t admit.”
“You’re insufferable,” he growled, burying his face in my neck and dragging his cock against my center. “And you’d rather talk at me than have a real fucking conversation.”
“At least I’m willing to talk.” I gripped his hair and dragged his head back. He was still close enough for me to count each eyelash framing those dark as sin eyes.
“Yeah, right, and when things get hard, you think moving away is the answer.”
“Then you know what to do, right?” I popped up, making him jerk backward with the sudden movement. “Do what you do best. Fucking leave, Mark.”
His hand shot out. He grabbed my arm, yanking me toward him, so I was flush against his body. He leaned down to rub his nose against my neck, and goosebumps appeared on my arms. I tilted my neck to give him better access to my skin and could feel his restraint snapping. My stupid body was betraying my mind.
