Page 48 of Bombshell

“No need. You can just go.”

Hearing him tell me any excuse was dangerous. I was likely to fall for it hook, line, and sinker. Simply because I wanted it to be true.

“Tink, you don’t mean that,” he murmured as he ran a finger over my bottom lip. “You missed me too. Didn’t you?”

Yes. I didn’t tell him that though. I stayed silent.

“I want you to trust me,” he whispered, staring down at my mouth.

He hadn’t exactly done much to earn my trust. Or anything at all really. Except the fact that he’d been gentle during sex. He made it good for me. I had known it wasn’t supposed to be good the first time—or even the first few times. I’d heard stories about it. Micah made sure it was special.

Then, he’d walked right out of the room, taking the bloodied sheets with him.

“You want me to trust you? I did. And then you left me alone to go tell…some blonde woman that I was boring and was bad at sex.”

He narrowed his eyes. “What the fuck are you talking about? Blonde woman? Fucking Dylan? Did she come to my room?”

I just stared at him. He seemed sincere…sincerely pissed off.

I shook my head. “No. She stopped me on the stairs when I was leaving.”

His nostrils flared, and his jaw clenched tightly.

“Tink, not one moment with you was boring. It was fucking spectacular. One time isn’t gonna be close to enough for me.”

“Did you come here to have sex again?” I blurted out.

He chuckled. “No. But once we’ve talked, if that’s an option, then, yeah, baby, I’d like it very much.”

My entire body began to tingle with anticipation. I had to stop this. I couldn’t do this with him. Placing my hands on his chest, I shoved away from him. Before I could feel proud of myself, I felt panic instead. The paper towel fell to the floor, and I froze. There was a chance he wouldn’t notice. I could steer him toward the door. Tell him I wanted to be alone. That I needed time to get over it.

His eyes narrowed, as if he was trying to read my thoughts. He tilted his head as he looked at me. A strand of his blond hair that wasn’t long enough to fit in the ponytail fell over the side of his face. Then, his gaze trailed down my body until it stopped on the floor.

For a moment, it was like watching this all play out in slow motion. I had to say or do something.

When he bent to pick up the bloody paper towel, I took another step away from him. Lies began forming in my head, and I tried to think of the most believable one. I started to open my mouth to spout it out when he grabbed my leg with one hand and jerked my sundress up with another.

I attempted to squeeze my legs together, but he pulled it open, then sucked in a sharp breath.

“Tink,” he said tightly, “what did you do?”

I struggled to grab on to an excuse and verbalize it. They all seemed weak and unbelievable. I shook my head instead of saying anything. Micah stood up, his entire body now rigid as he grabbed my hand and began walking me toward the kitchen.

No, no, no, no, no. This was bad.

I pulled back on my arm, trying to slow him or redirect him.

His hand wrapped around my wrist and continued to tug me with him. When he walked into the room, he froze.

His hand squeezed my wrist and then let go. “What the fuck, Dolly?” he whispered.

I closed my eyes and turned to run out of the room, but he was quicker than I was. His hands grabbed my waist and stopped me. The ragged breath he took as he held me quietly for a moment told me he was struggling with this. The lump in my throat was there instantly.

One hundred twenty-two, one hundred twenty-two, one hundred twenty-two, one hundred twenty-two, one hundred twenty-two, one hundred twenty-two.

“Why, Tink?” His voice was thick with emotion.

I closed my eyes and swallowed hard. “I don’t know,” I lied. I knew. I’d had hundreds of hours of counseling that taught me why and how to overcome it.

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