Page 103 of Ghosted

I hate that I notice.

That it even matters.

I hate that I want him this badly while I’m this mad at him.

My fingers twist into the waistband of his sweats, keeping him close even though I’m the one who should be pulling away. His mouth is hot and rough, his body tense against mine, and for one messy second, I let myself believe I can make him hear me this way.

Because maybe words aren’t enough, maybe this will be.

Maybe I will be.

I break the kiss first, breath shaky, forehead almost touching his.

“Don’t go,” I whisper.

His hand tightens in my hair.

“Please,” I say, and I hate how small it sounds. “Don’t do it. I’m asking you not to go, not to feed into his game, for me.”

Jagger closes his eyes, and I know before he even says anything.

That’s what breaks my heart.

His hand tightens in my hair. “Alice.”

“Please. Don’t give him this. Don’t give him you in a cage with everyone watching. Don’t let him turn me into the reason they all see you lose control.”

Something moves across his face.

Pain, maybe.

Want.

The kind of feeling that doesn’t know where to go unless it breaks something.

“I have to,” he says.

The words hit so hard I actually pull back.

“No, you don’t.”

“Yes.” His voice is rough. “I do.”

I stare at him, waiting for more. Waiting for him to fix it. Waiting for him to take it back or explain it in a way that doesn’t feel like he just picked the fight over me while my mouth is still swollen from kissing him.

He doesn’t.

“So that’s it?” I ask.

“I’m trying to keep you safe,” he says.

I laugh once, but it sounds almost wet. “You keep saying that, but I’m standing right here telling you what would make me feel safe, and instead of fucking listening, you’re still choosing what makes you feel better.”

He flinches.

“Don’t do that,” he says.

“Do what?”