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I opened my mouth to speak but then closed it. Yet again, Atlas had left me absolutely speechless with his actions and words. He was all in for the chase, and I wasn’t sure if I was willing to give him one anymore. I wanted him just as badly as he wanted me.
Damn him.
I was in a losing battle and needed to find a way to turn this around. I was going to claim him, not the other way around—but would it be so bad if he beat me to it? Atlas came into my life out of nowhere two days ago, and suddenly, I don’t know who I am anymore.
Shifting my gaze from his, I noticed that I had dropped my coffee cup and was suddenly fisting his shirt with both hands. I guess I had my answer as to where my traitorous body wanted me to go with him.
I looked back up at him, biting my bottom lip, my core searing me from the inside out. It took every ounce of resolve left in me not to press my damn thighs together. His gaze dropped to my mouth, and all I could think about was his lips on mine. Devouring me whole.
“Let’s take this your place,” I spoke breathily.
Damn it all to hell, I had made my decision. I was going to let him in and see where this would take me, but I wasn’t going to lead him to my apartment, not just yet, because if I needed to run, I wouldn’t make it easy for him to catch me. I needed an escape route.
He removed his hands from the tree, grabbed my wrists firmly, and gave me a smirk that told me he was about to make this difficult for me.
“I’m sure you are in the habit of always getting what you want when you want it—or need it, like at The Landing.” He spoke softly, staring deeply into my eyes. “But this time, I want you on your pretty little hands and knees, crawling and begging for me.”
Leaning forward, he brushed a kiss to the crook of my neck, biting gently, and then pulled away completely, releasing my wrists. I was trembling—shaking with desire.
“I’m a patient man, sweet thing. I can wait.” He winked, stepped back, and left me leaning against the willow tree for support, wanting him—needing him.
Then he strolled out of the park like he owned it—owned me. Not once did he look back over his shoulder to see if I was going to follow him. He was that fucking confident in himself and what he just did.
My insides caught fire and began screaming.
Fuck!
CHAPTER 10
Chyler: Two Weeks Later
It has been over two weeks since Atlas left me in that park. My body was screaming with need for him, and ever since then, he has not once attempted to reach out to me - no messages, no calls, nothing. I haven't even had the chance to run into him downtown during the lunch rush.
I refused to beg for him.
I beg for no one; the men beg for me, goddamnit.
I was tearing my hair out by the root in sexual frustration over him. The simple fact that he had the balls even to attempt to toy with me made me want him even more.
He liked games, but so did I, and I played to win.
“I’m a patient man.” I scoffed to myself as I imitated his words.
I should have moved on from him at this point; I don’t need to waste my time pining over him when there are plenty of other men out there who are willing to give me what I want. And yet, I have spent nights—nights—dreaming about him, his touch, his voice, his scent—his cock. About the way he fucked me in that restroom.
I have pleasured myself with thoughts of him more times than I would like to admit. I am running out of my own patience. I need him before I explode out of my skin.
This man has occupied every free moment of my mind since he entered my life, and now I feel like I’m hanging on a hook, waiting for him to come and devour me.
I have tried to get him off my mind by flirting with other men at bars when the girls and I go out, but the rush is no longer there, and I give up trying shortly after starting any form of conversation. Nothing can compare to the high I get when I am with Atlas.
He fucking broke me. Is this what it means to be ruined by a man? The appeal of sex with anyone but him has shriveled up and died; no matter how attractive they are, I only want him.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
Madison was right. That first night we met, he did something to me that changed me, and now I am on the precipice of giving him what he wants. Why do I want him this badly? How is this even possible? I refuse to give him the satisfaction of winning by being the first to break the silence between us, which is why I have avoided contacting him.
The moment I message him, it’s all over. He wins.
