Page 58 of Fire

She turned to face him, her hands reaching for him, but he captured her wrists before they could land and moved them behind her back, holding them there.

“Why do you always do that?” She’d thought to ask him before, but the timing had never been right. It’d usually been while he was kissing or fucking her and by the time he was done, she’d be in too much of a fog to remember.

“Do what?” he mumbled in the curve of her neck.

“Trap my wrists and stop me from touching you.” She struggled in his hold for emphasis.

His lips trailed up the underside of her chin.

She reared back. “No. I won’t let you distract me again. Not with kisses. Not with sex. We need to talk.”

He stood up straight, releasing her wrists and stepped back, the fire in his eyes dimming until they were hard and flat. He walked around the couch and took a seat in the armchair across from it, cutting himself off from her and giving her no chance to get close.

Fine. Better for her to keep thoughts in her head and the conversation on track.

She moved to the front of the sofa, blushing when she saw the wet imprint of her teeth marks on the center cushion and bypassed it to sit at its end, tucking herself into the corner.

He replied as soon as she’d taken a seat. “I don’t like to be touched.”

Wait. That wasn’t true. They held hands. She touched his arms and his shoulders. “I touch you all the time.”

He looked exasperated. “Then what are you talking about? You said I never let you touch me.”

“When we’re kissing and I go to reach for you, you always grab my wrists and hold them behind my back.”

He executed that nonchalant shoulder shrug he liked to use and she was growing to hate. “I like to be in control. You know this.”

She shook her head. “No. It’s more than that.”

He ran a hand through his hair. “Then I don’t know what to say. I wasn’t aware I was doing it.”

But he was, and the subject clearly agitated him. Fine, she’d move on. “I asked you in the car where you saw our relationship going. You had a hard time answering that, so I’ll ask it a different way. When you think about our relationship, how do you view it? Is it only about sex? Will it be over when you grow tired of it? Do you have any feelings for me at all?”

He stared across the coffee table at Gwen, looking so small sitting in the corner of the oversized couch. His heart twisted. That was why he should have never entered into a relationship with her. Eventually, she’d expect answers. And Gwen had every right to those answers. He just couldn’t give them to her.

He should’ve stopped things before they’d reached this stage. She was growing too close, and it was getting harder to keep the truth from her.

He’d kept telling himself just one more day then he would end it, but one day had turned into two then three then a whole week.

Because he needed her.

It wasn’t awant,it was aneed. He ached when they were apart and counted down the hours until he could be with her again. For the first time in his life, he felt comfortable around another human being. He’d never been in love but figured what he felt for Gwen had to be pretty damn close, if not the real deal.

He knew his time with her was short. More questions would come, and she’d grow tired of his non-answers. He could see the frustration already starting. And if he didn’t answer her soon, she would walk out his door and never look back.

But he couldn’t give her the answers she sought. Because while he may have fantasized about getting married, having babies, and growing old with her, that was something that could never be. After everything he’d done, he didn’t deserve love. And he could never risk having a family and pass on his tainted genes. And she deserved all that, but with a man who was better than him.

He wasn’t normal. Would never be normal. Didn’t deserve normal. It had taken a long time for him to get to the point where he could even pretend to be normal. But it was all an act that would come unraveled with a few choice questions and answers.

As he watched her now with that expectant and, God damn him, hopeful look on her face, he knew he needed to come to a decision. Do what was best for her or selfishly drag things out when he knew their time together would need to end. Pretend for a while longer he was normal. That he was deserving of love, of a family, of growing old with someone. Pretending that someone could be Gwen.

He knew what he needed to do.

“I’m attracted to you sexually. I haven’t grown tired of fucking you, which, as you know, is unusual for me. I also knew you well enough to know, that if I wanted to keep fucking you, other commitments had to come into play.”

She looked as though he’d slapped her. Score one for him in the asshole column.

“So, this is all sexual for you? All you feel for me is lust?” She was silent for a moment and then she shook her head. “I don’t believe that. It has to mean more.”

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