Page 51 of Broken Instrument

“Like that matters. I was me the last time we kissed, and what did you do? You rejected me.”

The callousness in her voice makes me pause. After our last conversation when I dropped Mia off, I’d assumed she’d forgiven me for screwing up, but, apparently, I couldn’t have been more wrong.

I step closer and tuck her hair behind her ear, my touch gentle and unsure while praying she isn’t too far gone to see my sincerity. “Hads, I didn’t reject you––”

“Yes, you did.” She jerks away from me but keeps her feet planted, causing our chests to brush against each other as she tilts her chin up in defiance. “I made a move, and you rejected me. Yet here I am––again––and what do you do? You reject me.” Her lower lip quivers as she holds my gaze, trying to stay strong, but I can see her wavering. “Why do you keep rejecting me, Fender Hayes?” She tugs at the hem of her shirt, pulling the black top over her head, then dropping it at our feet. “Is this not what you want? Am I not skinny enough?” She grabs her round, supple breasts through her bra and stands on her tiptoes, closing a bit of the distance between our heights. “Not tall enough? Not blonde enough?” She flicks her long, dark hair over one shoulder. “Is it the glasses? Do you hate these glasses? Fine. I’ll take them off. I’ll––”

I capture her wrists again, but she doesn’t stop fighting me as she goes to rip off the glasses. They’ve only heightened her appeal since the first night we met. Using my stature and weight, I push her into the wall and pin her hands above her head.

Our breathing is ragged as I order, “Look at me, Hadley.”

She shakes her head back and forth but squeezes her thighs together while her bra-covered tits press against my chest.

“Look. At. Me.”

“No. I can’t look at you and see disgust. I can’t look at you and see indifference. I can’t––”

“There isn’t a single inch of you that isn’t perfect, okay?”

She laughs but doesn’t bother to look at me, staring blankly at the wall opposite us instead. “Sure, there isn’t.”

“I’m serious––”

“I just threw myself at you, and you said no. If I were so perfect, that wouldn’t be the case, now would it?”

My muscles tighten with frustration, the heat from her bare body practically branding me through my clothes. “You have no fucking clue what you’re talking about.”

“Tell me. Tell me what I’m talking about. Tell me why I’m not the girl for you, or why you can’t be my distraction, or me your distraction, or why it feels so good when you’re pressed against me like this.” Her voice trembles, and she takes a deep breath through her parted lips. “You feel so good, Fen. Why do you feel so good? I think I can taste your smell. Is it possible to taste a smell? ‘Cause I think I can. I could smell you in your car, and I can smell you now. But I’m mad at you, which makes me not want to like your smell or how you feel against me, but honestly? I can’t get enough of it. You should keep touching me.”

She isn’t making sense, which only feeds my frustration and guilt. There’s no reasoning with her. Not when she’s like this.

My grip loosens around her wrists, but she doesn’t pull herself free from me. If anything, she melts into me more.

“You should get some sleep,” I murmur.

“But it hurts.”

“I'm hurting you?” I let her go instantly.

“No. My…down there. It hurts. I…I need some friction.” She squeezes her thighs together again, and her hips shift toward me like a damn homing beacon. “Something. Please.”

“It’s the drugs.”

“Drugs?”

“The guy at the bar, Hads. He drugged you,” I remind her. “I told you in the car––”

“What guy?”

“There was a guy at the bar,” I repeat. “You were talking to him. He slipped you something. Something making you feel the way you do.”

“Happy and horny?” she asks. I watch her hands slide down her bare stomach, unbutton the top button of her dark jeans, and disappear into her underwear.

Shiiiit.

“You should kiss me, Fen,” she begs, tilting her head up until those damn pouty lips are only a few inches from mine. I could lean down––

I tilt my head back and stare up at the ceiling. Her lips brush against the column of my throat.

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