Page 131 of Shattered Lives

And even though what just happened was incredibly hot – holy shit, was it hot – and even though it made me want things I’ve never longed for in my entire life, I’m not willing to throw away our current relationship for really hot sex.

The fact I’m even having an internal conversation about whether or not I should have really hot sex with him proves Mark was right. I’m not broken. Not totally, at least.

And now I’m not sure how to act around him.

I really hope I haven’t screwed up the one relationship that matters more to me than life itself.

I finish my shower and dress in my usual shorts and loose shirt. I hear the clatter of weights, signifying he’s finishing up. I’m back in the kitchen when he pokes his head in the doorway. His guarded expression throws me for a loop.

“I’m going to run through the shower. Meet you in about ten minutes?”

His tone is light, but something in his eyes isn’t right. I nod, ignoring the uncertainty in the pit of my stomach. “I’ll have the popcorn and drinks ready.”

The tension between us is immediate. We sit side by side watching the movie, but we’re careful not to touch, when only yesterday I’d leaned into his side, his arm over my shoulders. We take turns reaching into the popcorn bag so our hands don’t graze against each other. I’m pretty sure neither of us could tell you what the movie was about. I know I can’t. I was lost in my own thoughts.

My fear.

Fear that I’ve ruined things between us.

It’s even worse at bedtime. I rinse our glasses in the sink and head to his room to join him, hesitating in the doorway. Mark’s in bed, leaning against the pillows. He glances up.

“Aren’t you coming to bed?”

“Are you sure it’s okay?”

“Of course it’s okay.”

“I could sleep –”

“Don’t you dare say on the bench,” he says firmly.

“The couch, then.”

He frowns, looking like Regular Mark again, and I’m relieved.

“Charlie,” he says patiently, “nothing has changed. This was an agreed-upon test. Yes, we kissed. It doesn’t change anything. You’ve slept beside me every night since I got here in case one of us needs the other. Now come to bed. I’m not going to take advantage of you,” he adds.

He’s intentionally goading me, and even though I know it, it still works. I scowl and pad across the room. “I know that,” I snap. “I just didn’t want things to be weird.”

“Then don’t make them weird,” he answers sharply. He closes his eyes and draws a deep breath. I pretend not to notice.

I pull the mirror and the massage oil from the closet and climb onto the bed. “Slide the leg of your shorts up so I can work on your quad.”

He pauses briefly before pushing his shorts out of my way. I kneel and warm the oil in my palms before gliding them across his muscles. His quad is practically in knots. “You’re really tense,” I murmur as I begin to massage. I’ve forgotten my hair tie, and my long hair swings free each time I lean into a stroke, brushing his chest. I kneel above him and lengthen my strokes, working from his knee to the top of his thigh.

I’ve barely gotten started when he grabs my hands. “I don’t want a massage tonight.”

I look up in surprise. “Are you sure? Your quad feels pretty tight.”

He shakes his head, not meeting my eyes as he pushes my hands away.

Mark doesn’t want me to touch him now?

I put away the oil and mirror and wash my hands in the bathroom, his blatant rejection making my face burn. I keep my expression neutral when I re-enter his room. I silently get into bed with my back toward him, careful not to touch him as I face the door.

“Good night, Big Guy,” I say quietly.

His voice is equally quiet. “Good night, Baby Girl.”

---