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“Well, that is a problem,” I say. “You don’t want to feel anything. I want to feel everything. I’ve been numb for too long…. forever, I think. Because I’ve never felt things before like I do with you. This isn’t just about the sex, Nandy. This is the way I feel when I see you smile, the happiness and peace I feel when we talk about nothing. About the crappy Chicago weather, about how a game went, about my father. My world is okay when you’re in it.
“I can’t deny the attraction…when you walked out in that suit tonight…what was that about? You can’t put that on and parade around in front of me and expect me to believe I don’t matter to you. Touching me, being with me doesn’t matter to you. What about the hand holding? Your guard was completely down hours ago—”
“You matter too much. Don’t you get it?” he shouts.
And I get it. But I’m done paying for someone else’s behavior. Someone else’s lie.
“I’m not him,” I say quietly and step into Nandy’s space. This time, he doesn’t move away. Doesn’t run from me. I press my forehead to his. “I’m not him,” I say again. “Stop punishing me, punishing yourself, for what he did.”
He pulls his head back just enough to focus on my eyes. His have softened. The anger finally vanquished.
He tilts his head just enough and presses his lips to mine. So soft. The tip of his tongue traces the seam of my lips but pulls away when I offer entrance. The lips remain, and I tug and tease them with my own.
“You ready for more?” Nandy asks.
“I’m ready for everything,” I smile, our heads still pressing together. My cock is coming back to life.
Nandy smirks. His fingers trail down my arm and he threads his fingers through mine again, as he had earlier tonight.
“Not here.”
“Why?”
“Call me a romantic, but I don’t want your first time to be here.”
I smile at him. “Ah, aren’t you sweet?”
Nandy’s eyes turn devilish. “Don’t get used to it.”
“What about Fynn?”
“Fynn?” He looks at me, almost as if he’s confused by the question. “Fynn is being well taken care of, I promise you.”
I wonder what that means. Who that means. I’m finding I don’t like the idea of him with someone else.
“You’re okay with that?”
“Of course, that’s what we do. He doesn’t want more than that any more than I do.”
I don’t think that’s true. But that is a discussion for another time.
Chapter twenty-three
Control. It’s an illusion. I like to think I have it all the time.
On stage I do. Or do I? At the club with Fynn, I do. My feelings. I’ve controlled them by turning them off. And that’s the biggest illusion of all, right? They can’t be turned off, not permanently. And here now with TJ…I feel everything and everything but in control. I’ve never had it all with TJ.
The silence in the back of the car on the short ride to the penthouse is pleasant. His hand resting on my thigh and my hand on that hand as I gaze out the window at the city. He wants me. Wants this. Or he thinks he does.
How much will sex change it?
How much am I willing to risk?
Everything. Apparently. Everything. When I hear the door to my apartment close behind TJ, I turn to look at him. He removes his coat and I pounce.
The door rocks with the force of our bodies slamming back against it. I place a hand on the door and grab his hip with my other, tugging him closer because slamming him into the door and pressing against him still isn’t close enough.
He reaches for my face, cradling it in his hands. He pulls me into a deep kiss. A kiss full of so much want. So much desire. His tongue searches every dark nook of my mouth. Searching, probing, tasting. He sweeps it along my teeth and with every tangle of my tongue, my stomach flutters and sparkles full of excitement. Desire heads straight for my cock…and my heart.
