Page 205 of Holding On To Good

Realized he was ready to beg. To promise her anything she wanted. Everything she needed.

As long as she stayed with him.

Except she’d made her choice, his bruised and battered pride reminded him.

And he’d made his.

He took another drink.

He’d done what he’d had to do to protect himself. To finally free himself.

The only way either of them would ever be able to move on was to cut all ties.

Wobbling only slightly, he got up and set his phone on the patio table, then headed inside, buzzed but not wasted. Hurt and pissed off and determined to find a way to somehow kill his feelings for Willow once and for all.

Only to step into the living room and get slammed by the memory of their first night together. How she’d looked, stretched against the wall, all long limbs and flushed skin. The way she’d arched and shuddered as she came against his mouth. How she’d tasted on his tongue, sharp and sweet.

He made a sound of frustration, of pain, one so loud it had Bella jumping and yipping in commiseration. Took another long pull from the bottle before slamming it down on the coffee table.

Forcing himself to keep moving, to concentrate on taking the next step, the next breath, he crossed the room, pretending not to notice her shirt, ripped in two, on the hallway floor.

But the stairs held their own torture.

Yours, she’d told him as she’d trembled beneath his touch, her pussy clenching around his fingers.

Yours.

He’d thought it was a confession. A hard-earned truth he’d finally managed to coax out of her.

A prize he’d won.

But it was just another of her lies.

One he was desperate to escape.

Taking the stairs two at a time, his dog hot on his heels, he tried to outrace the memory of her. Tried to ignore the whisper in his brain, the one telling him he hadn’t coaxed her confession so much as seduced it out of her. That he hadn’t won the truth, he’d demanded it.

Ripped it from her before she was fully ready to give it.

Taken it from her when he’d promised himself he wouldn’t take more than she was willing to give.

That she wasn’t the only liar.

Another truth he couldn’t escape, but he still tried. He hauled ass into his room, hoping he’d had enough to drink that he’d fall into a dreamless sleep. Wishing he could shut off his thoughts, if only for an hour or two.

Praying that by the morning, he’d somehow be past his anger.

Numb to his pain.

But the moment he crossed the threshold into his bedroom, he realized his mistake.

There’d be no sleeping. No forgetting. Not even for a moment.

Everywhere he looked, he saw her. Kneeling on the floor, waiting for him to take control. Straddling him as she took it back. Lying underneath him while he told her with his body what he couldn’t tell her with his words.

The tears in her eyes as he did so.

He stood in the middle of the room, his heart beating faster and faster. His breathing growing shallower and shallower. There was a roaring in his head, loud and rumbling, like a freight train. He was dizzy and trembling, his hands and feet cold as ice. Sweat dotted his upper lip.

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