Page 94 of Silver Player

“Screw you, William,” I mumble without any bark or bite, just defeat. Screw him for making me feel like this, wanton and begging for more. Screw him for telling me we’d keep it easygoing and then making it complicated with pretty words. Screw him for making me feel like I could fall in love with him and making me fall apart over him.

“Screw me? Is that what you want? Is that what you want to call it?”

He slams into me, hitching me upward a bit, and I’m thankful for the heeled boots, helping me balance. A bit rough at this angle, Billy holds my hips, thrusting inward as I arch back, drawing him deeper in a different manner.

I should stop him. I feel us unraveling, but I allow us to continue in this position in hopes it will keep us together.

My palms slip down the wall, struggling for anything to hold me in place as Billy hammers into me, deeper, faster, harder.

“Hold on,” he growls. I’m out of control. I squeeze, and I clench. I grip him. I want to get there, but I just can’t. I feel myself slipping from him because I want him to want me more than anyone else.

I don’t want to be just some woman against a wall.

“Shit,” he grunts before he stills, and I feel the telltale signs of him inside me, pulsing, jerking, releasing. I sigh against the wall, frustrated with how close I am, but also how disconnected I suddenly feel from him. This isn’t how I thought it would be.

He quickly withdraws from me and then to my utter surprise, he slaps me on the ass. I spin to face him, horrified with the smack and what it’s doing to my libido while my head is discombobulated and my heart squeezes like a vise grip.

“Thanks. That was fun.”

My mouth falls open as I stare at him. His eyes.

I can’t read him.

I can’t read myself.

How much I want him. How afraid I am of losing him. How afraid I am he just lumped me with all the rest. Afraid we’ll walk out his door, and it will still be something casual. But I can’t it. Not like this.

Deep inside, he’s a good man—caring and loyal. He’s a good father, and that’s attractive. He’s an excellent lover, and that’s just dangerous.

My emotions are running faster than my heart.

I want him to accept me. I want him to tell me I’m enough—not because of Sadie—but because we feel something for each other.

“Why do I feel like you’re pulling away from me?” I whisper, my voice hoarse as I fight the shock of what he did, what he said.

Thanks, that was fun.

My body stills. My back stiffens. The cursed wall is the only thing holding me up from collapsing under the weight of my emotions this morning. What started out as a seduction has left me feeling slimy and incomplete.

“Aren’t you doing the same thing?” he questions, crossing his arms. He’s already hiked up his pants, and I’m still standing before him, more exposed than naked.

“I’m not.” I swallow a sudden lump in my throat. Is this over? I don’t want us to end. I want us to move forward. Last night, he was so sweet and honest, but today…today, I just feel this overwhelming sense of uncertainty.

Thanks. That was fun.

That ass slap. That cavalier comment. It’s too casual for me.

God, I can hate him sometimes while still thinking he’s amazing. I’m too raw to think straight, and I don’t even know where the next words out of my mouth come from. Poke the bear.

“Not a brick wall,” I snark, slapping my hand at the plaster. “But a wall nonetheless.”

His mouth gapes. Those brown eyes widening before shuttering, and then he straightens. “Well, I try my best to satisfy.”

Oh no, he didn’t.

He did not carelessly dismiss what happened. Yet haven’t I done the same thing?

Why did I do this?