“Here.” I grab his left arm and throw it over my shoulders before he can even protest and start up the stairs to his second story.
I kick his bedroom door open and walk him to the adjoining master bathroom. He leans up against the white marble countertop. “You can take my car,” he states.
I look at him in the mirror. “What?”
His blue eyes meet mine. “You can drive my car home. I’ll have someone come get it tomorrow.”
“Grave …”
“You don’t have to stay here with me. I’m fine.” He turns his back to me and starts to walk over to his glass shower that sits over in the corner of his overly large bathroom. It has three sides made from nothing but glass so you can see inside of it.
I bow my head and let out a long breath. “I understand you’re mad at me. I’m sorry for turning my back on you.”
“I’m not mad,” he says softly.
I look up at him through my lashes. “You should be.”
He runs his left hand through his hair, keeping his back to me. “I hurt you. I lied to you. I did everything that I didn’t want to do … to you.”
I walk up to him and place my hands on his back. He stiffens at the touch. I immediately pull away. “I shouldn’t have assumed the worst.”
He turns around. His eyes scan mine for a second before he looks away. “I’m an addict, April.” My chest tightens at his confession. Hearing others say it just isn’t the same as him admitting it. “You were right.” His eyes come back to mine. “They are all right. You deserve better than me.”
“I was wrong,” I argue.
“No, you weren’t,” he says, and I fist my hands.
He’s going to push me away. It’s what I did to him. “Don’t do this.” I shake my head.
“Do what?”
“Stop!” I order, getting angry with him. Myself. “Quit pretending you don’t know what’s going on here.”
His blue eyes glare down at me. “You may go,” he states, dismissing me as though I’m nothing to him. As if the last month didn’t happen.
I snort at his words. “I’m not leaving.”
“April …” he growls. “Turn around and walk away. You did it before without even thinking about it.”
“I thought you cheated on me,” I snap defensively.
“I fucking did,” he yells.
“You thought she was me,” I argue.
“And that makes you forgive me?” He snorts. “Thought you deserved better than that?”
I slap him across the face and instantly regret it when I see my handprint burning red on his cheek. “I’m sorry,” I whisper, my hands cupping my face as tears sting my eyes.
“Aren’t you tired of lying to yourself?” he asks. “Because I’m tired of doing it.” He hangs his head, shaking it.
“Grave …” I choke on his name.
“Leave, April.” With that, he turns his back on me and opens the shower door to turn on the water.
I hang my head; the first tear runs down my cheek as I turn and exit his bathroom. I close the door behind me and lean back against it. My legs unable to move. My mind screaming not to make the same mistake twice. Emilee told me to communicate, and Jasmine told me to fight if I want it. And I know now more than ever that I want him. We made mistakes. I can admit that. That doesn’t mean I want to give up.
I take a deep breath, square my shoulders, and open the bathroom door. Steam fills the large space as I stomp over to the shower and yank it open. “I’m not leaving!” I snap.
Stepping out from under the sprayer, he turns to face me. His blue eyes are tired, possibly sad. I’m not sure which at this point. “April …”
“No, Grave! I will not let you …” My words trail off as I spot his arm. Purple, blue, and black ink cover his right arm in a sleeve. “What …?” My heart begins to pound in my chest. “Why?” It’s the only word I can think of. “Why would you do that?” My eyes manage to meet his.
His eyes stare down into mine intently. “A woman drew this, and I thought it was so beautiful that I wanted to show it off to the world.”
“It’s me.” I choke, those damn tears stinging my eyes once again. He makes me so emotional. “My drawing …”
“It is.” He nods once. “I had to have it.”
“Why?” The first tear falls down my cheek.
“Because.” He reaches out, grabbing my hand and pulling me into the shower. Clothes and all. “You are gorgeous, April. The most beautiful piece of art I’ve ever seen.”
Another tear falls. “But we … we broke up,” I say.
“So?” He frowns. “You think that made me love you any less?”
My breath gets caught in my lungs. “You love me?” I whisper.
“More than anything.”
I sniff, my chest tightening with remorse. I had so much I wanted to say to him. How I wasn’t going to leave him. How I wouldn’t allow him to do this to him or to me. But now the words mean nothing. “I love you. And I should have told you …”
His lips crash onto mine, cutting off my rambling. I open for him, tasting my own tears. His hands go to my shirt, and I lift my arms above my head and pull away just long enough for him to remove the fabric.
“I love you,” I mumble against his lips.
He growls, his hands yank my shorts undone and shove them down my legs. I kick them off. Spinning us around, he slams my back into the wall, shielding the water with his body. Then his lips are back on mine as he slides into me.
I throw my head back, pulling my lips from his to cry out. I forgot what he felt like. How big he was. He starts to move, after getting a better grip of my body.
My hands go around his neck, and I grasp his hair between my fingers.
He wraps his free hand around my neck, and my pussy tightens. My lips part, and I suck in a ragged breath.
I look at him through heavy eyes, and he’s already watching me. The sound of our bodies slapping and the shower running fills the room along with our heavy breathing. My toes start to curl, and I close my eyes when the sensation takes over. “Oh, God.” I gasp.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
GRAVE
HER PUSSY CLENCHES around my cock, and her body tightens against mine as she comes.
I lean down, attacking her lips with mine as I continue to fuck her, getting ready for my own release. I would love to take my time with her right now, but I can’t. My body fucking hurts. I’m exhausted, but I couldn’t not show her that I love her. That I’m sorry for what I did. How I reacted and that I let her think I truly didn’t give a fuck about her.
I thrust one last time before coming. I lower her to her shaky feet but keep her pinned to the shower wall. “I’m sorry,” I say. She’ll never know how much I’m sorry for hurting her. I would give anything to take it back.
“Don’t be,” she whispers, running her fingers along my sleeve. “You did nothing wrong.”
I place my forehead to hers, still trying to catch my breath. “I did.” In so many ways.