I wait for him to let me go. Only he doesn’t. He casts a quick look up the road, searching out Wren and Elodie, then turns back to me, tugging me closer to him. “What is this, Chase? I don’t have the time or the energy for this shit.”
My chest pinches, lungs seizing, begging for air that won’t come. “What do you mean? I’m not—”
“You come all the way to the city? To check on me? Because you’re worried about me?”
“Yes!”
“But you didn’t give a flying fuck about me in your bedroom a couple of weeks ago,” he says, his voice all hard edges.
“What?”
“You made it pretty clear that I was just a fuck to you, and you didn’t need anything else from me. So why bother chasing me all the way to New York now, huh?”
“I didn’t—” I shake my head. “I never said that, Pax. I was just really confused. You were acting so differently. I couldn’t figure you out. And then you said you were tired, and I was the path of least resistance for you, and yeah! Okay!” I throw my hands up, exasperated. “That made me feel like shit. So, I was a little pissy—”
He huffs, cutting me off. “Why the fuck would that make you feel like shit?”
“Why do you think? Are you so completely clueless that you think telling a girl you’re nothing but the easiest option is going to make her feel good?”
He narrows his eyes to slits. Even angry, he’s the most insanely attractive guy I’ve ever fucking seen. Foolish teenaged hormones. Foolish, romantic brain. Foolish fucking heart. What a mess you’ve gotten me into. I catch the flash of his teeth—a briefest suggestion of a snarl. “You are so fucking off base,” he grits out.
“Come on! Quit squabbling in the street, children. We’ll lose the table if we’re late. I will not be happy,” Wren hollers.
“You want me. You’re addicted to fucking me,” Pax states. When I don’t say anything in response, he lifts an eyebrow in challenge.
God. Is he really doing this now? “What? Am I supposed to curl up in my shame and deny it?” I hiss.
He wets his lips. “Well?”
“Yes.” I say it without emotion. Certainly without embarrassment. I don’t have the energy for either anymore.
Pax’s eyes harden. He lets go of me and sets off after Wren and Elodie. “You should have just texted me tonight.”
Oh my god! Is he seriously changing the subject?
“I did text you. I messaged you four times. You ignored me and carried on with whatever the hell you were doing—”
“Working.”
“And you left me to assume your mother was dying. Or you were bleeding out off of the New Jersey Turnpike or something.”
“What the fuck does the New Jersey Turnpike have to do with anything?” he says. “Do you have any idea how far away that is?”
“I don’t fucking care where the New Jersey Turnpike is, Pax! The New Jersey Turnpike doesn’t fucking matter!”
Pax grunts. He doesn’t say another word until we reach the restaurant, where Wren and Elodie are waiting outside for us. Where they’re pressed up against the wall around the corner, draped in shadows, to be more precise. Wren has his hand up Elodie’s dress. I know from the way his hand is moving between her legs, and the soft, whimpering sounds that are coming out of her mouth that his fingers are inside her.
Pax hisses. “Hell’s fucking teeth. You’ve gotta be kidding me.” He rips his ballcap off and runs a hand over his scalp, shaking his head—the embodiment of pure frustration. “Put her down, Jacobi. You’re gonna get your ass arrested, and I am not posting fucking bail.”
“Go in. We’ll be there in a second!”
Steely, silver eyes flash murderously. “I swear to god, I’m gonna kill him.”
“Relax. They’re just…having fun?”
The muscles in Pax’s jaw work overtime. “You’re okay with hanging ’round on a street corner in New York while one of your friends gets fingered?”
“No. I—”
“You into that? You wanna watch?”
He’s furious now. Boiling over. Why the hell is he so angry all of a sudden? He grabs me again, this time very roughly, spinning me around and yanking me to him, that my back is pressed up against his chest. I try to pull away, but his arm locks around my ribcage—a solid steel bar, holding me in place. “Let go of me, Pax.”
He doesn’t. He takes me by the chin, fingers gripping my jaw, fixing my face toward the alleyway and the dark shape of our friends. I can’t look away. “Does that make your heart beat faster, Chase? Does spying on them turn you on? Is…” He pants between gritted teeth. “Is that what you want me to do to you?”
My attempts to wriggle free are futile. I still try, though. I strain against him, shockwave after shockwave of adrenalin exploding like bombs in my head, coursing through every cell and nerve ending of my body. I’m hot. Way, way, way too hot. “Let me go, Pax.”
“Stop,” he snarls, shaking me. “Fucking quit it. Look at them and tell me the fucking truth. Is that what you want me to do to you?”
I go still in his arms. Utterly limp, like a ragdoll. In the dim alleyway, less than twenty feet away, Elodie moans, the sound of her breathless pleasure echoing off the crumbling brick walls. Her eyes are closed. Her head rocks back, her lips parting, and a look of pure bliss settles on her face. The muscles in Wren’s shoulders and back tense, shifting with his movements. He buries his face in the crook of Elodie’s neck, growling loud enough that I can hear him. The sound of it sends a shiver through me. He grazes his teeth over the skin at the base of her neck, over her collar bone, and my breath hitches in my throat.
Behind me, I can feel Pax’s heart slamming beneath his ribcage. His chest is rising and falling just as fast as mine, all of a sudden. I realize that he’s loosened his grip on my jaw. His hand slides down the column of my throat, and for a moment he simply holds it there, his palm resting over my windpipe, his fingers pressing lightly into my skin. And then…
God…
And then, he very carefully, very lightly trails his thumb over my skin, running from my earlobe down to the hollow of my throat. His warm breath stirs my hair, skating over my neck, and I break out in goosebumps over every square inch of my body. “Say the word and I’ll do it,” he whispers. “I’ll pin you up against that wall right next to them. You can get down on your knees right there in the piss-soaked trash and I’ll shove my dick halfway down your throat until you choke on it. Is that what you want from me?”
A hot wall of fury slams into my chest. I wrench myself away from him, and the band of steel across my chest that was trapping me disappears. He doesn’t try to stop me this time. His cold, arrogant laughter fills my ears, turning the heat that was just blooming inside of me ice-cold; I feel like I’ve just had a bucket of freezing water dumped over my head.
“You’re a fucking asshole,” I mutter, straightening my jacket. “What the hell is wrong with you? Why can’t you just be normal?”
His wretched smile fades. A look of curiosity takes its place. Tipping his head to one side, he pulls a pack of cigarettes from the pocket of his jeans and lights one, then narrows his eyes at me. “What’s normal for you, Chase? Do guys simp over you day and night? Do they bust in their tightey-whiteys the moment you look sideways at ’em. That what you’re used to?” He blows out a breath of smoke, the twin plumes of it billowing out of his nose, and for a second his face is hidden amongst it. Enough time for me to drag in a deep breath and recover myself.