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Christ.
Why can’t I stop? And no, I’m not talking about bad poetry. I’m talking about her and him. I can’t stop kissing them, touching them, wanting them, even when I’m drowning in my own troubles, even when I feel I’m cheating, when I know beyond any doubt this will end badly.
Her hands move on my cheeks, over my bruised jaw, down my neck to my shoulders. She draws back with a small gasp. “Rid.”
I want to shake her, ask her what she wants, what she decided, what the hell we’re doing, but what comes out is something else.
“What did you say to Ryan about me?” The moment the words are out I curse inwardly because of all the implications –that I talked to Ryan about her, about this, that I care.
She bites her lip. “I didn’t say anything.”
“You’re kidding me, right?”
“Did he come here? Oh God…” She lets her hands fall and steps back, eyes wide. “Did he hit you?”
I grunt, rub at the crease between my brows. “It doesn’t matter. Something happened between you, right? Did he…?” Fuck, I should have guessed. “He kissed you again, didn’t he?”
Motherfucker.
She doesn’t say anything, her delicate shoulders hunched. “It meant nothing.”
“Of course it meant something.”
“Not to him.”
“Bry…” I don’t even know if she’s right or not. He wants her, or he wouldn’t have shown up here, ready for a brawl—but then what was it with the blowjob? Was I a way to release some steam?
I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing. Turning away from her, I stagger over to the sofa and sink down on the cushions.
She follows me, her expression worried. “What’s wrong?”
“Everything,” I admit. I’m not used to feeling so despondent. I always had hope in the past.
Not so much nowadays. Not for my family, not for this thing between us.
She nods, her copper curls bouncing around her face. “You’re right.”
I give her a bleak look. Here it comes. “Say it.”
“Ryan is an asshole.”
I blink. Not what I expected. “Huh.”
“And I have a crush on him.”
Fuck. “Bry—”
“And on you.”
What the—?
“I want you both. So much I can’t sleep at night. I keep thinking of you and him together. And with me.”
I can’t breathe. Her words, the images, the idea, they’re a massive punch to my solar plexus. I’m gasping like a stranded fish.
“And it’s all wrong. It’s not fair to you, or to Ryan. The Asshole.”
“Listen—”
