Page 225 of Tell Me Something True

“I’m not wearing your boyfriend’s shirt,” he said, his tone tinged with bitterness.

And jealousy.

Don’t say it, she warned herself as she took the shirt and added it to the pile of clothes in her arms. You don’t owe him anything, remember? Do. Not. Say. It.

“He’s not my boyfriend.”

She smashed her lips together before she said something else she shouldn’t.

“But you’re talking to him, right?”

“Wasn’t that what you wanted? For me to go out with other guys? To hook up with them?”

It was what he’d told her that night at the lake, one of the things he’d said that had eviscerated her.

He flinched again, but this time she knew it wasn’t from his physical pain.

But he didn’t get to act the injured party here. This was his choice. Everything that had happened between them this summer had been his choice.

He had no right to act hurt or jealous or angry now that she was making some choices of her own.

Reed stepped closer, jaw tight, gaze hooded. “You fucking him, princess?”

He’d asked her something similar that night at the lake, too. If she’d hooked up with one of the guys they’d gone to school with. Had practically begged her to tell him she’d been with someone else so he could pretend he didn’t have feelings for her himself.

Jerk.

“I see your obsession with my sex life continues.” She wrinkled her nose at him in faux concern. “Might want to work on getting over that.”

She turned and stomped over to her closet, her head held high.

“I can’t,” he whispered, stopping her mid-swing as she yanked her closet door open.

Two little words that shouldn’t mean much. Didn’t mean much, not in the grand scheme of things.

Except for the way he’d said them, raw and guttural, like they were his deepest, darkest secret that had been ripped from his very soul.

Her hand tightened on the doorknob. Her heart was going all pitter pat crazy, her stomach was swooping, like she was on the roller coaster ride of her life.

Except, she didn’t want this kind of excitement. Didn’t want all these twists and turns that made her dizzy. Didn’t want the ups and downs that left her reeling. She wanted steadiness. Stillness. Safety.

And she’d only get those things once she got off this freaking ride.

Facing him, she tossed her clothes aside, all the better to slam one hand on her hip and jab the pointer finger of her other hand in his direction. “Do not. Say. Another. Word.”

Yeah, it was slightly ironic, demanding his silence when she usually wanted any and all his words.

These were confusing times, indeed.

“I can’t stop thinking about you,” he admitted softly.

The hand she was holding up began to tremble, so she curled her fingers and lowered it to her other hip. “No.”

“I told myself that if you were with another guy, I could forget about you,” he continued as he slowly, methodically walked toward her, persistent and ruthless in his quest to break her for good. For every step he took forward, she took one back. “That the thought of someone else touching you would make me not want you, but that hasn’t happened.”

“No,” she repeated, but instead of the firm, resolute tone she was going for, it came out shaky and hesitant.

Not that it mattered. He just kept right on with his stalking, moving steadily closer until her back hit the wall. He stepped in closer, so close, she felt the heat from his body. Smelled the scent of him and who knew that soap and sweat could be so enticing?

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