“You want the truth?” he cried hoarsely. “You want me to share my broken pieces with you?”
The truth was like a wild beast suddenly unleashed. It roared through him, seeking freedom, bursting out, looking for something, someone, to sink its sharp teeth into.
“You left me!”
There was no fear in her eyes as her gaze held his. No trembling of her hand still on her cheek. Like he’d said, she was brave. Brave and kind and so fucking committed on seeing this through.
“You left me,” he repeated, lowering his voice. “And even though I’m trying to understand why, even though I know I’m partly to blame for it, it still tears me up inside. I’m pissed that you came to Mount Laurel and made me realize that I wasn’t really over you.” He covered her hand on his cheek. Squeezed gently before tugging it from his face, letting go and taking two steps back. “And I’m pissed that you stayed and now I know I never will be.”
“I want this,” he continued. “I want you. Everything I told you two weeks ago in my car was true. I want to move forward, but it’s like every time I do, every time I take a step forward, something, a memory or a doubt, yanks me back and I’m pissed all over again.”
And he hated it. Hated that he didn’t have more control over his feelings. Hated that he’d been the one to pursue this and he was also the one holding them back.
Hated that he couldn’t forgive her.
“So be pissed.”
He blinked. Frowned. “What?”
“Feel your feelings instead of shoving them down until they make you sick. Be angry. Take it out on me if you need to. I can handle it.”
Appalled, he shook his head. “No. I’d never do anything to make you feel unsafe.”
Except fuck the hell out of her mouth in a dark closet in a bar and shove his dick down her throat until she couldn’t breathe.
Fuck.
“Whatever you’re thinking, stop. I have consented to and fully participated in everything we’ve done. The way you treat me, the way you touch me and the things you say to me, the way you take control of me…” Laying her hand on his chest, she looked up at him, as if beseeching him to really hear her. To believe her. “It makes me feel whole. It makes me feel seen.”
Rising onto her toes, she brushed his mouth with hers, the movement, the softness of her belly against his dick had it twitching. “I’m not afraid of you, Miles,” she breathed against his lips. “I could never be afraid of you. Take more from me. Take what you need.”
Forget twitching, his cock went fully hard as all the blood in his body seemed to rush to fill it. He braced himself against the wave of lust that threatened to knock him off the tightrope he’d been walking into the abyss below.
He could have hung on. Could have battled that wave.
But he was fucking tired of constantly fighting. Was so tired of pretending he wasn’t still hurt and angry and so terrified of making another mistake with her.
All he wanted was some goddamn peace.
And so far, the only place he’d found that peace was when he was with Tabitha.
Maybe, that was where she found peace, too.
He kissed her forehead, then stepped back so that her hand fell from his.
She wanted him to stop pretending? She wanted him to feel his feelings?
He was going to feel the hell out of them.
And he was going to wreck her while he did so.
***
“Get on the bed.”
At Miles’s words, Tabitha started to turn, but he spoke again.
“No,” he barked. “Don’t turn away from me. Walk backward. Eyes on me the entire time.”