“Love that you walked away from.”
He planted a palm on my sternum, keeping me locked against the mirror. “You can’t do this.”
“Can’t do what? Protect myself from you? Speak the truth?”
“Yes...all of it.”
“How about telling you how I feel? How about how pathetic I feel for still being in love with y—”
“Don’t.” His hand immediately fell away as if the feeling of my heart thrumming beneath his hold terrified him. “Stop it. You don’t. I don’t have the right to—”
“You know how much I lov—”
“Quiet.” He slapped his palm against my lips, hushing me. “I don’t want to know.”
The tiny changing room swirled with mistrust and intolerance, quickly slipping back into our safe place.
Sex.
Bodily connection rather than soul belonging.
And instead of suffering the painful knots in my heart, I threw myself into our chemistry. Chemistry that burned so hot it charred away our past and incinerated our pain.
This was what we had.
We had magic.
That part was undeniable.
And if it was all I would earn, then I intended on taking as much as I could.
Pulling away his hand, I said, “I want you, Gil.”
His eyes snapped closed. “Stop. Fuck, please...don’t make—”
“I’m wet and pissed off and seconds away from either kissing you or slapping you. You get to choose which.”
“I choose work.” With shaking hands, he fiddled with the second pasty, tearing off the double-sided tape. “Enough.”
“Fine.” Sticking my breasts almost in his face, I whispered, “Touch me. See what happens.”
His entire body stiffened from my angry invitation.
I trembled for aggressive connection. I didn’t care we were in a public place. I didn’t care I wanted to hurt him as much as help him. I didn’t really care about anything apart from deleting the jittery, slithering envy that still lived inside me.
His fingers skimmed my bare nipple, making it diamond hard. He placed the pasty over me with a thick grunt. “I don’t know why I’m covering you up when you deserve to be naked.”
My head fell back against the mirror as my belly clenched. I wanted to puddle to the floor by his feet. “Don’t use them then. You said you don’t like painting with them.”
“I don’t.” His nose skimmed my collarbone, inhaling me as if he couldn’t stop himself.
“Then why...”
“Because I don’t want other men seeing you.” His growl hit my cleavage with heavy gusts. His teeth nipped me before he swayed back. With hungry eyes, he pinched the pasty into place, squeezing me cruelly as if to punish me for his reaction.
For our fight.
For everything.
Instinct took over.
Retaliation was my downfall.
My hand shot forward.
I grabbed the throbbing length in his jeans.
He buckled against me, trapping me against the mirror. His hips rocked into my grip as his teeth caught the top of my ear and bit. Hard. “Jesus Christ.”
My heart rate exploded, flying free from everything wrong between us.
My other hand fumbled for his belt, furious and fast, needing him with a ferocity that scratched skin from bone.
He bit me again, his teeth sharp before grabbing my chin and wrenching my head to the side.
His mouth crashed on mine, and our tongues immediately met in a war of touch and heat. I moaned as he thrust against me, pushing my hands away from his cock to wedge directly between my legs. The mirror stuck to my back as we rocked and fought, dry-thrusting, fake-fucking, trembling with intoxication and insanity.
I ruined the skin-coloured G-string. I’d never been wetter as he scooped me off my feet and drove his hips into mine with such brutality every bead of my spine cried out in pain.
My fingers dove into his hair, tugging the messy strands all while our lips sucked and kissed, our teeth clacked, our breaths caught.
Our desire turned us messy and manic—clawing body parts and thrusting want.
I needed him naked.
I needed him inside me.
Now.
We acted as if a war went on outside the door and this was our last chance to be together. Our last chance to be honest—to let our bodies tell the truth while our words spread only lies.
“Fuck, O.” He drove his hardness against my clit, sending fireworks up my belly.
Wriggling a little so I had space, I wedged my hand between us, doing my best to undo his zipper.
He kissed me harder, and blood mixed with our flavour. Feral hunger infected both of us as our lips smashed and tongues duelled. I could come just from his kiss.
I was empty.
Empty and angry and lost.
“I need you inside me.” Frustration bubbled and lust made me growl. “Ignore the commissions. Screw the money. Take me home, Gil. Screw me instead. God, please—”
I expected him to attack me with rage and relief. To give into the delirious desire between us.
Instead, my voice acted like ice water.
He dropped me instantly.
His lips tore from mine.
His chest pumped as he sucked in oxygen and raked hands where my fingers had tangled his hair. “Meet me outside.” Turning around, he manhandled the impressive erection in his jeans into a less obvious angle before unlocking the door.
I hugged myself as he stepped out. “Wha-what just happened?” Shivers caught me, partly from the air-conditioning and mostly from his snowy rejection.
“I need this commission.” He refused to look at me, his jaw working hard. “I can’t forget it. I’ll never forget it. This commission. All the commissions are more important than anything.” He whirled on me, fury replacing any sign of weakness. “Do you understand? They come before anything. They come before you and me and everybody. Do. You. Understand?”
“I understand.” I backed away from his rage. “You need the money.”
“I need it more than you know.”
“Tell me, Gil. Tell me what happens if you don’t pay—”
A guttural, god-awful grunt fell from his lips. “I’ll pay. I’ll always pay.”
“Pay for what?”
His eyes snapped closed as if he couldn’t tolerate the question. Anguish replaced any sign of lust from before, dragging him into dark, woeful places he couldn’t escape.
Dragging a hand over his face, utter exhaustion and despair caught him all over again. “You’re destroying everything. I shouldn’t be doing this—I can’t forget what’s important. I can’t let you—fuck!”
He punched the changing room wall. “I can’t do this. You don’t get to come first. No matter what you do to me, no matter what you mean to me, you do not get to come first. Not anymore.”
“I-I’m not asking to come—”
“Just put on the goddamn robe, O. I’ve wasted enough time. I’ll see you outside.”
He left with a melancholy groan that once again shattered my heart.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
______________________________
Olin
-The Present-