“How would you know?”
Without hesitation, he says, “Being on the cover of the pro hockey game. Everyone respects those guys.”
“You’ll do it. And I bet guys will like you as well.” I hate that he doesn’t see the good in himself.
“You only think that because I let you stick your dick in me.”
Chapter 36
Theo O'Keefe
Jamal has me pinned to the floor with my arms over my head, and I’m about to chirp at him, but his intense stare stops me. It’s as if he’s trying to see into my soul, and my palms get sweaty thinking about whether he likes what he sees. I turn my head to the side.
This day has flown by, and the sky’s dark outside. But this moment lasts for hours.
I feel his smile as he nuzzles my ear. “I”—his fingers on my chin bring my face to his—“love”—my sweat goes cold, and my head shakes as he nips my other ear, whispering—“you.”
My heart hammers in my ears, and a sense of dread paralyzes me.
“Hey.” Jamal kisses my lips. “It’s okay. You don’t have to say it back.” He keeps me pinned when I try to get up. “But I thought you should know.”
It’s going to kill me when he leaves me. “You can’t,” I choke out, and try to dump him off me by twisting my torso since he won’t let go of my wrists.
“It’s okay,” he repeats calmly, as if I won’t die in the next few minutes if I can’t get away.
“No, let me go.” I thrash, and he pushes me harder into the floor.
He can’t love me. It will ruin everything.
I shut my eyes so I don’t see the hurt on his face. Jamal thinks he loves me, and I told him he can’t. The worst way to respond in the history of responses,but accurate.
“I’m not letting you go,” he says, as I continue to fight him.
“Why?” I ask in a cross between a whine and an accusation.
“Because I love you, and even if you’re not ready to hear it, it’s true.”
“I want to believe you so badly.” I settle for the truth and sneak a peek at his face. Shockingly, he seems more confused than angry.
“Tell me why it’s hard, Kitten,” he says against my lips.
“You know why. I’m broken. Not even my mother loves me.” I choke on the words.
“You’re not broken. I feel sorry for your mom. She’s missing out on a lovable son.” His soft, full lips press mine. “What are you feeling right now?”
“You’re not my therapist,” I say, meeting his determined gaze. “Mad,” I admit.
Jamal’s head tilts to the side. “Are you, tho?”
“Listen, I’m fucked up, okay. I’m sorry. You’re kind and self-aware and way too good for me, and it’s going to end with you hating me.” The truth spills out before I can stop it.
“Do you want me to hate you?” he asks evenly.
“Of course not,” I yell. “I mean, why would I?” I ask softly.
“Then it would be my fault.” His eyes glow with understanding.
“That’s not… No…no one has ever…ugh… I’m not arguing with you about this.” I watch his face, but his expression doesn’t change.
