Page 44 of Bought and Broken

I push the thoughts from my mind and wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him closer. But he grabs them and slams them against the wall so hard they burn. I whimper against his mouth, and he laughs. So, I take my turn to sink my teeth into his lip, and I draw blood.

He hisses as he pulls back, using his free hand to dab at his lip. His eyes are dark, furious, and that hand comes up to grip around my throat. I lift my chin, holding his gaze. There’s a question in his, but only for a split second before he squeezes tighter.

Those dark brown eyes of his grow impossibly darker, and to show him I’m not afraid of him or what he can do to me, because he’s already hurt me as much as he can, I push against his hand. Excitement fills his eyes as he watches—excitement and awe.

“You don’t know what you’re doing,” he hisses against my lips before dragging his tongue along my bottom one.

But he’s mistaken. I know exactly what I’m doing. Which is why I smile at him in response.

He shakes his head, letting out a growl before stepping away and letting me go. The look on his face is nothing but disappointment. Which makes no sense. Isn’t this what he wants? Does he not expect me to fight back? To enjoy it? Is he truly trying to scare me? Does he want me to keep fighting him? Does he want me to give up?

What the hell do you want, Tate?

He turns toward his bedroom and walks off. I’ve never felt fury the way I feel it right now, with my heart pounding and my lips burning.

“What’s wrong, Tatum? Don’t like when I fight back?” I call after him.

I thought I knew the answer. I thought he loved it when I fought back. I mean, he didn’t like it, but deep down he liked knowing I wasn’t giving up. But… maybe I’ve got it all wrong. Maybe he hates when I fight back. When I mouth off to him or don’t accept the shit he gives me. He hates that I have a mind of my own. That I’m independent.

Or maybe the real problem is that I don’t need him the way he needs me… and maybe that’s been his problem all along.

Tatum hates me because I don’t need him. Because there is nothing stopping me from leaving him.

The anger slowly washes away, and it’s replaced with sadness.

Tate is hurting. Has been hurting since he was a little boy. I want to be there for him, have tried to be there for him, and he won’t let me. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do—what I can do.

He loved my independence once upon a time. He nurtured it. Helped build my confidence. He gave me a safe place to become the person I am today, and then he took it all away. Or he tried to.

The door slamming tells me he’s pissed. Okay, fine. He can be mad all he wants. I bet he doesn’t even know why he’s mad, he’s just throwing a fit like the man-child he is. He’s the one who kissed me. He chased me up here. All I did was ask for the truth. It’s not my fault I can’t believe what he tells me. That’s his fault too. All of this is his fault. Yet he wants to get mad at me like I’m the one causing all of this. He put us here. If it weren’t for him breaking up with me then ignoring me, we could be married right now! Expecting children. Living in a house. Traveling. We’d be in such a different place, it’s almost crazy to think about. We had plans—so many plans! And he ruined them all. He ruined my life!

I go to my room and pace, taking deep breaths through my nose and letting them out of my mouth. I ignore the dull ache in my foot.

You’re doing this for you, Devon. Just be nice. Do what you can with what you have.

I just need to get through this weekend. It’s one weekend. I can be nice to Tatum for one weekend. Especially now that there’s only about a day left. I’ll do my best to fix this.

I can totally do this.

Since I won’t be able to sleep, I grab my pillow and blanket and go to the theatre. I get comfortable in the same spot I was in last time. It takes a little bit for me to figure out the remote, but once I do, I scroll through the options and put on Spy so I can finish it. Maybe the movie will calm me down enough that I can give him another chance without wanting to tear his head off. Or maybe nothing will ever change between Tate and me, and we’re meant to hate each other forever.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Tatum

What was I thinking?

What. The. Fuck. Was I thinking?

How could I kiss her like that? How could I kiss her at all? That was so goddamn stupid.

I’m supposed to be taking things slow. Easy. I have to treat her like a scared animal. If I push too hard, she’ll know something is up. I can’t force myself on her like that.

But she kissed me back.

She kissed me.

She isn’t the one who pulled away. I am. I’m the one who freaked out. I’m the one who ran.

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