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“I don’t fucking know, okay?” He runs a rough hand through his hair, messing it up, and kneads the back of his neck. “I saw you with that preppy little shit, and he was touching you, and you looked like this.” He flings a frustrated hand in my direction.
“Look like what?” He better not outfit-shame me. I look good, and my boobs are magical.
“Seriously?” His lip twitches. “You need me to spell it out for you?”
“Apparently.”
His eyes rake over me, hot like molten lava. “You look like every sin I want to commit, Princess. So, yeah, I acted without thinking.”
Of all the things I expected him to say, that wasn’t anywhere on the list. But all it does is fuel my anger-fire. “Is that supposed to make me feel better about you ruining the date you sent me on?” He wants me, I want him. Why can’t it be as simple as that?
“Yeah. No. I don’t know. I’m trying to be honest without blowing up my fucking life.” His nostrils flare. “You gotta stop making me admit this kind of shit. It’s not doing us any good.”
He’s shutting down again, and I know better than to keep pushing when he gets like this, but my half-broken heart won’t allow me to stay silent. He’s the worst man for me to be falling for, but this is where I am. I know we can’t be anything, but that doesn’t change what I want. “You can’t keep sabotaging my dates and saying shit like this, Hollis.”
“We’re at very different points in our lives, Aurora.”
And here comes the rationalizing. “That sounds like another bullshit excuse. What are you so afraid of?” I take a step closer. “I’m right here, telling you I want you.”
“It’s what you think you want right now.” He sighs.
There is nothing more infuriating than having him use the life-experience card like he knows what’s best for me. “And what about you, Hollis? What do you want?”
His eyes move over my face like a caress. “You’re killing me, Aurora.”
“Good, because this is agony, Hollis.” My voice cracks. To want someone so desperately but have them so far out of reach. Why can’t a nice boy like Jameson be enough?
“Please, don’t cry. Please.” His hand lifts, hovering for a second before he caves and his fingers brush my cheek.
I lean into the touch and raise my own hand to skim the back of his. Every part of me hums with desire and longing. It hurts to want him. “Do you feel this the way I do?”
“Yes,” he whispers.
“Then why are you fighting it?”
He leans in, and my heart stutters as his breath breaks against my lips. He changes course and skims my cheek with his mouth on the way to my ear.
His voice is a pained whisper. “I’m trying really hard not to screw shit up more than I already have today, and trust me when I say I know I fucked up in a lot of ways. I’m struggling here. And I know it’s not fair to you. It’s killing me, Aurora. But I’m losing the battle with my self-control. So please, before I do or say something to screw things up even more, or worse, say something that makes you cry again, I need you to go inside your apartment.”
“But—”
He drops his hand, and it grazes the length of my arm, his thumb skimming like a phantom kiss.
I lean back enough that I can see his face. His jaw tics. “Hollis?”
“Please.” His gaze shifts away. “I need this from you.”
The look on his face is the reason I stop pushing. Because I see all the things I feel—the frustration, the longing, the fear, the desire. And the echoing agony. At least I’m not alone.
“Okay. I’ll go inside.” I fumble for my key fob.
Hollis doesn’t move, just balls his hands into fists and watches me with an intensity that makes my knees weak.
I swipe it over the sensor and open the door.
“Be a good girl and stay home tonight,” he murmurs darkly.
“Yes, Daddy Hollis.” I slip inside, but not before I see his eyes trace my face one last time.
