Page 21 of Rejected Plus-Size Mate

“Leslie,” I mutter through the kiss.

“Uh-huh?” she mumbles, smiling.

“I can’t.”

She stops kissing me, pulling back a little. Her eyes are wide and confused.

“What?”

“I can’t. Not this. Not right now.”

Her expression doesn’t change; she just keeps staring at me. I can see emotions flashing in her eyes, but I have no idea what they are.

Relief, probably.

I can’t take her like this, in a moment of heat and passion. She’s pretty drunk, I’m out of my mind with jealousy—this is not how I want it to be, our first time as a married couple.

She has to want me. Really want me and accept me.

As I stare into her eyes, an ache starts to burn in my chest. I have boxed myself into a perfect corner.

Leslie cannot know me, accept me, or want me until I am fully and completely honest with her. Until I am, those secrets will stand between us, as impenetrable as a steel wall. She is so innocent, so beautiful and sweet. She deserves so much better than a street dog like me.

That doesn’t mean I’m about to let her go, though.

Leslie takes a step back. I see her mouth turn down at the edges, and her bottom lip trembles. Before I can say anything, she turns and runs down the hall.

I want to follow her, more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my whole life. I can’t, though—she needs space. She needs to feel comfortable here, and I’m more than happy to give her the bed and the bedroom.

Just admit it. You feel like you need to be punished.

I sit down on the couch and put my head in my hands. It’s true. I do think I deserve to be punished. I should be sleeping on the cold, hard ground. Even the couch is too good for me.

No matter what I do or where I go, I’ll always be the bad kid. The one nobody wants. And that’s how it should be.

I sit back and try to relax, but I still have Leslie’s scent all over me. It’s so rich and sweet, it makes my head swim. Every part of my body is rock-hard with tension, especially one part in particular.

Looks like it’s going to be an extremely long night.

Chapter 8 - Leslie

I run down the hallway in the dark, desperately trying to keep my shit together. My chest feels tight, and my hands are shaking as if I’m out naked on the mountain in midwinter.

Hurling myself into bed, I can feel the sobs starting to escape, so I bury my face in the pillow and try to muffle the sound. I try to hold it in, but my head starts to ache, and my chest feels like it’s going to burst. Finally, I let loose with a cry of sorrow, practically screaming into the pillow.

I wrap the blankets around myself, even over my head, and curl up as if it’s a cocoon. Hugging one pillow tightly against me, I bury my face in another one and let the sobs come.

He rejected me—again! And I was stupid enough to fall for it!

For a while, I can’t think. All I can do is cry. All the depression and sadness from the last year come roaring back, consuming me completely. It’s a whole year’s worth of pain, and now it’s hitting me all at once, with a fresh wound on top of it.

“Please,” I whisper into the pillow, not even knowing what I’m praying for. “Please, no.”

My breathing starts to settle, and I sit up a bit to find a tissue and blow my nose. The pillow is soaked with tears, so I flip it over, then burrow back down into my cocoon again.

The tears continue to trickle down my cheeks, and my chest still hurts, but the frenzy of hurt has subsided somewhat. I can finally make sense of my racing thoughts and begin to figure them out.

I don’t fucking want to. I don’t want any of this. I just want to wake up tomorrow and find that this was all a dream, Kyle is far away, and I can learn to live without him.

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