Page 71 of Negotiating Tactics

“I’m sorry,” Noah said.

He sounded sincere, so sincere that the guilt I had managed to forget came back.

“I know it’s super fucked up to complain to you after…”

“After my own piece of shit father abandoned me?” he said.

His voice held none of the heat, none of the emotion I felt in my own, and I nodded. “Yes. Exactly.”

“To tell you the truth, I think I got the better deal,” he said.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“I wasn’t ever even in the same room as my father until I was thirty-two years old. And yeah, that’s fucked up. But I can only imagine how much worse it would have been to know him, be able to pick him out of a crowd, have him leave, get over him leaving, only to have him come back and start the cycle all over again. It’s fucking torture,” he said.

“Yeah,” I responded. “It’s torture.”

“But you know that has nothing to do with you,” he whispered, his fingers now rubbing soothing circles on my back.

I didn’t say anything, and he slid back until he was flush against the headboard and pulled me until I was again sitting on his lap facing him.

He grabbed my throat with one of his big hands, held my face in place.

“It has nothing to do with you, Alex. It’s him. He’s fucking garbage.”

I bristled, reflex dictating that I argue with Noah’s words. “He’s?—”

Noah didn’t let me. “Don’t defend him. Don’t. You deserve so much more than he was able to give you. And I’m sorry that you suffered because of him. But it’s not your fault,” he said.

“But you think it’s yours,” I whispered.

His eyes darkened, and he huffed out a little laugh.

“We’re not talking about me right now,” he said.

“You wouldn’t let me get away with that,” I pointed out.

“Well, if you can admit that what I said is true, maybe we can talk about me,” he said.

I held his gaze for a long moment, and then slowly, slowly moved closer, resting my lips against his.

He kissed me back, then pulled away, his expression intense.

“Alex, I was fucking worried about you. I didn’t come here for this,” he said.

As he spoke, I settled onto the growing hardness nestled between my ass cheeks.

“He disagrees,” I said, trailing my lips along his jaw.

“But he’s not in charge here. I am,” he said.

He stilled me, both of his hands cupping my head now, his eyes almost scarily intense.

“I didn’t come here for this,” he repeated.

“I need you, Noah,” I said, my gaze locked on his.

I hadn’t meant to say the words and certainly hadn’t meant to sound as vulnerable as I did in that moment. Noah was seeing a part of me I’d never shown anyone else, and it occurred to me too late that he might not like him. That he might not want the burden that I was now that he’d seen it.

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