And God help me, I do.
I rub my throbbing clit against his thick thigh, the friction of our clothing heightening the sensations, the building pressure. Ohhhh, it’s good. My movements become frantic as I chase that impending orgasm. It’s close. So close. I’m almost there—
But, then … he eases off, sliding his leg from between mine.
No. I nip at his bottom lip in frustration.
No.
He retreats even further, blowing out a breath and dropping his forehead to mine.
I blink.
The muffled sound of the bass abruptly returns. The waft of cigarette smoke from the open back door and the cackling of another group of women as they exit the nearby bathroom plants me firmly back in reality. How he did it—how hestillmanages to do it after all these years is beyond me, but when I’m with Riley, it feels as though we’re the only two people in the world.
Only … we’re not.
And then the panic I felt earlier rises once more, with a vengeance. I can’tbelieveI let him get this close. I can’t believe I let him touch me.Kissme.
And that kiss …
It was a claiming. One I can’t allow.
I put my hands on his chest and push, attempting to reclaim some space between us. “What the fucking fuck, Riley?” I hiss.
I barely manage to move him, though my words at least cause his head to rear back. His eyes flare—at my cursing, or the sudden about-face, I’m uncertain.
“How dare you?” I continue, shoving him once more, harder this time.
He allows me to propel him backward. We’re both panting. He stares down at me, his face a mask of uncertainty, his lips wet and swollen from where I nipped him.
I bit him.
Ikissedhim.
I humped him like a freaking horny teenager.
A laugh bubbles up from my throat, then, as I’m struck once more by his audacity. By the sheer and utter nerve of this man to think he could show up after seventeen years without a word.
After ghosting me … using me …betrayingme.
This man broke me. He shattered my heart. I can’t let him back in, for that simple reason and … others—one in particular I refuse to even think about in his vicinity.
“I hate you,” I breathe, barely above a whisper. It’s unlikely he can hear it over the background noise, but I watch the hurt flicker in his eyes as he reads the words on my lips.
Good, I tell myself as I slip past him, where he remains frozen in the hallway. He deserves it. If he feels even a modicum of the hurt and pain he’s caused me …
But it doesn’t actually feel all that good as I weave back through the crowd in the main bar in search of my friends. Ishouldfeel relieved. Satisfied that after all these years, I finally got the chance to tell him how I feel. And I want to hate him, after the way he broke me, I really do. But as I make my excuses to Lucy and Piper and escape into the night, the truth repeats again and again. It echoes in my head and in my heart.
I don’t really hate him.
I never could.
And I hatethatmore than anything else.
11
Riley
