I watched his chest rise and fall before he spoke. “Isn’t it?”
“No, you idiot. This is not about Scott. It’s about you. You! Watching you move around in the world, talking, working, going on dates, as though nothing has changed. As though we’re the same two people we were two weeks ago. You may be, but I’m definitely not.”
“Edie…”
I wasn’t in the mood to hear another of his attempts to let me down gently. “Do you know what that’s like? Can you imagine for one second? How it feels to have to stand quietly by and pretend everything’s the same? That you’re not in love with your best friend?”
His response to my impromptu declaration came out sharp. “Can I imagine? You’re kidding me, right?”
“No! I’m not.”
“You’ve been dealing with this for...what did you say? Two measly weeks? Try ten years, Eden. Try pretending away your love for ten fucking years. Can you imagine what it felt like to watch you throw yourself at one loser after another, comforting you through heartache, touching you like it doesn’t mean anything? Can you imagine that?”
In all the time I’d known him, he’d never spoken so harshly.
He’d never said anything so wonderful.
And awful. Because I hadn't been sure, but I’d thought he might like me, and I’d pretended I didn’t. I hadn’t even given us a chance to talk it out. I’d been such a bitch.
“Wait.” I blinked up at him. “Was that why you rejected me? Paybacks?”
“Paybacks?” He looked baffled. Then offended. “No. No.”
“So then—”
He dropped my purse to the ground, and then I was pressed against the door, his mouth hovering over mine. “Just...stop talking.”
And then he was kissing me. Kissing me like he couldn’t breathe without my mouth feeding him oxygen. Kissing me like he would never stop. Kissing me like a man who’d secretly loved me for a decade.
And this time when he carried me to his bedroom, I already knew that nothing would ever be the same.
Chapter Nine
Brett kissed me as he walked me into the bedroom, my legs wrapped around his waist. Instead of taking me directly to his bed, he set me on the ground after we’d crossed the threshold and studied me, like he didn’t know what to do with me.
Or maybe he just didn’t know what to do with me first.
Based on the experience of last time, Brett didn’t seem to be one who lacked ideas when it came to fucking. Personally, I didn’t care what he did to me, as long as he did something.
Just when I feared he’d changed his mind, that this wasn’t a good idea after all (again), he scooped my hair off my shoulders with both hands, then grabbed it tightly in his fists. With a yank, my head fell back, exposing my throat.
I waited for his lips to find my skin there—his teeth to mark me like they had last time—but they never did. Roughly, he used both hands to drag me to the wall. There, he dropped my hair and brought his hands to my throat.
Lightly—then not so lightly—he squeezed.
My breath became shallow, from excitement as well as a constricted airway, and for the first time, I considered that Brett might want to do more than just sexy bad things to me. It was a thought I would never have believed possible before, when I suspected he had a crush, when he was the Nice Boy in my life.
When I hadn’t thought about him beyond friendship.
Now, the look in his eyes said that the feelings he’d withheld from me were much more complicated.
He might very well want to hurt me.
Honestly? I didn’t blame him.
I placed my palms against the wall behind me, a form of surrender. “Go ahead,” I said, my voice tight from his grip. “Whatever you want to do to me, I deserve it.”
His jaw twitched, and his eyes blazed, and his fingers pressed in the slightest bit harder at my neck. “Dammit, Edie, I could strangle you just for that.”
“For what?”
He shook his head in answer, then relaxing his grip and dropping one hand from my throat, he drew his fingers down my body—over one breast, past my bare stomach, over my pussy. The movement was purposefully light. Controlled rather than tentative. I could barely feel it through the layers of clothing—my crop top, my skirt, my panties—and I was convinced it was meant to drive me mad. I had to concentrate very hard not to buck my hips forward in an attempt to get the pressure I needed.
I was rewarded for the effort when he pushed his hand under the slit in my skirt and stroked me over the crotch of my panties, all the while, his hard gaze never leaving mine.
When I let out a shuddering whimper, he stepped closer to me and tightened his grasp around my neck. His expression seemed to be issuing me a silent dare, I just wasn’t quite sure what the dare was. To be silent? To not come? To not be turned on? To not be afraid?
Whatever the dare was, I’d lose. I had no control of myself. The sounds I made came involuntarily, especially when his fingers slipped past the flimsy material covering my pussy and found my bare flesh instead. I was already seconds from coming, the evidence of my arousal soaking his hand as he assaulted my clit with a vengeance.
And yes, I was afraid.
Not of what he would do to me physically, because even if he did want to hurt me, I trusted Brett with my life. He would never hurt me beyond what would feel good. Even if a part of him hated me.
What I was afraid of was what I would let him do to me, if he wanted to. What I would give him, if he asked. What he would break inside me, if he walked away again.
If I wanted to protect my heart, now was the time for me to put a stop to this. Maybe that was his dare—run away now or be owned.
Too late, Brett. “You already own me.”
I saw his stoic expression melt for the briefest of seconds before his hand flew from my pussy, and he smacked his palm against the wall with frustration.
Even with the loss of his touch, an orgasm rippled through me, fueled as much by his outburst as from what he’d been doing to me. My knees buckled, my back arched as I cried out, and if it wasn’t for his hand still at my throat, I was pretty sure I wouldn’t have remained standing.
“Fuck, Eden.” Brett pressed his forehead to mine. “I can’t resist you like this.”
“Then don’t.” I was still writhing, and the hand that had slammed the wall was already under my shirt, fondling my breast.
“And you show up to my mother’s birthday party without a bra…” His tone was angry, and it surprised me when my core clenched in response. The tone carried into his actions when he squeezed my steepled nipple to the point of pain. “Everywhere I went tonight, these stood out for everyone to see. Taunting me.”
“I didn’t mean to.” It really hadn’t been purposeful this time. The top I’d chosen had been modest, even though it was slightly cropped and had a low back. I’d only gone without a bra because it was impossible not to. More importantly, I hadn’t realized he’d noticed anything beyond my face. I’d caught his stare a few times over the night, but he’d never given an indication he’d been checking me out.
Had this been what the last ten years had been like for him? Always quietly aware of me?