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“What?”
“Just…do it.” Her chest was too tight and this had gone on too long.
He scoffed and she didn’t need to look at him to know he probably rolled his eyes the way he usually did when she frustrated him. “We’re in no rush. Let’s enjoy it.”
She wasn’t used to this taking so long. The more intimate it felt the less enjoyable it became. “If you aren’t going to fuck me then this is pointless.”
The soft set of his face hardened. He stared at her for an excruciating second, then pushed her shoulders down and jacked her ass up. “Fine.”
She let out a sharp gasp when he thrust again, filling her in one hard motion. Any sense of connection severed as he shoved into her.
“Is that what you like?” he asked, drilling harder with each thrust.
Her body swayed into the bed as his weight pressed down on her. Harder and harder, he plowed into her, until she was certain she could have been anyone and it would have made no difference.
Somehow the hollow connection comforted her. It took away any value so there was nothing to lose. But, unlike all the other times, this time she felt as if something had been lost.
Tears welled in her eyes because she didn’t know why she was so screwed up. She’d known cruelty all of her life and, because of that, nothing made her more uncomfortable than kindness.
She didn’t trust people or their intentions. If she raised her expectations, there would be a further distance to fall when others let her down.
This was what she needed—meaningless comfort. It was exactly what she’d asked for. So, why, when he gave her everything she wanted, did she feel like complete crap?
Because that glimpse of how he wanted her earlier showed her there could be more. It showed her what other women might feel when a man touched them. But men didn’t touch her like that. They used her the same as she used them, and she hated him for making her want such tenderness when it was nearly impossible to find. She was better off not knowing how it could be.
It was all bullshit anyway. Giovanni didn’t care about her. He didn’t even like her. They were just passing time.
His hands squeezed her ass and a tear rolled down her cheek. Her breathy moans peppered the silence, punctuating the sheer force at which he entered her. The slap of flesh beat back the memories of his gentle caresses and any lingering playfulness disappeared.
When he came, he shoved into her with a grunt, then pulled out, and his weight was gone. She sank into the bed, feeling used and dirty. The toilet flushed and the faucet ran, washing away any traces of her.
This was the moment she’d typically leave, but she was stranded with nowhere to go. Another reason why this was a mistake.
Reaching for the T-shirt, she covered her body, and curled onto her side, moving as close to the edge of the mattress as she could without falling off the bed.
He returned and pulled the sheets over his body. She wasn’t sure if he put his underwear back on or remained naked. He didn’t reach for her and he didn’t speak.
The fading sun no longer peeked behind the curtains and the room was dark. It comforted her like a hiding place and gave her a much needed shield.
Despite the warmth of the sheets and the heat of her body, she shivered at the unmistakable chill in the air. It was probably better that they were honest about what just happened. No use wasting time pretending it meant more than it had.
This was good. Clear. No confusion.
So why did she feel like she was spiraling?
She welcomed his silence but desperately wanted him to say something to her. If he could just touch her or press a kiss to her shoulder and silently let her know he wasn’t mad…
Every second passed with grueling confirmation that the time for conversation and closeness had ended. She knew it would. She agreed it should. But something inside of her hated it all the same.
“I’m not good with intimacy,” she finally confessed.
Had he fallen asleep?
A full minute passed before he said, “It is what it is. Tomorrow the roads should be clear.”
Her heart pinched. There was nothing more to say.
CHAPTER 9
