Page 26 of Make Me, Break Me

Did that mean we had broken up? Were we ever together? I didn’t remember making that agreement with him. We were fuck buddies, then I was nursing him—under duress, and he hosted a group project at a place not of my choosing—also under duress, because his housemates seemed to coerce me into working with them.

So, we were never really together. Had we ever broken up?

Does it matter?

My head argued it didn’t. My heart hurt like hell. And then Nelson’s mouth was on mine, and all choice was removed from the equation. I didn’t have a chance to push him for more.

The Lord of the Moment dove in like he planned on devouring me, but in reality he kept his kiss light, a gentle pressure of lips on lips, grazing over each other in an undeniably intimate touch. He tasted like hops and lime, whatever fruity craft beer he’d been drinking. When his tongue lightly probed the seam of my lips, I parted them, giving him permission.

Then I found out what kissing a Lord was really like.

One hand cupped the back of my head, his other firm on my jaw, angling me the way he wanted as his tongue danced along mine. I shivered, remembering this was all to tease Dex, to show him what he didn’t have right now. But I couldn't help thinking how lucky the girl would be who Nelson kissed like he truly loved her.

The man must be a mini-God on the sorority girl campus circuit. I promised myself I'd find out if his bed game was as good as his tongue game.

After that I never found out more as cold air met my lips because when I reached for him, my hands came up empty.

Well, empty at first.

Then my palms hit a hard chest, tangling in a shirt that elicited a scent of sin and sweat that I knew better than anything else.

“Dex,” I whispered, my voice too soft to be heard over the thumping house music.

My eyes cracked open, lazy like I’d been kissing him instead of his friend, to find the man I loved to hate not to date most staring back at me with unyielding eyes.

Why Nelson or I thought teasing this deadly, obsessive man would be fun, I had no idea.

We made a really big mistake.

“Dex, mate. We were about to come looking for you.” Nelson narrowed his eyes at me over Dex’s shoulder before the man in question turned on his friend and Nelson’s smile widened, his expression guileless in the face of impending doom. “She tastes good. Want to share?”

I shook my head frantically as Nelson touched his lips that were stained red with the remnants of my lip gloss. When he held that finger out to Dex I groaned, closing my eyes. I didn't need to watch what happened next to know the first thump heralded Dex’s fist connecting with Nelson’s aristocratic nose, and the second was his roommate hitting the Kingsman’s floor.

Then I was yanked away from the door and dragged through the crowd that parted before us without question. His face must have been terrible, because not a single soul questioned Dex, or offered to halt his path. I sent up a singular prayer for Nelson’s continued existence as I plucked at the steel-like fingers wrapped around my wrist.

“Dex—” I gasped, stumbling a little as the copious amount of tequila Margot poured into me before we hit the Friday night frat parties left me dizzier with every stride that exceeded the natural length of my own.

“Not a fucking word,” Dex snapped at me over his shoulder.

If his words didn’t shut me up, the abject betrayal and hurt laced in his tone did.

The last time I spoke to him, I hurt him, too.

I hung my head and let him tow me out of the party after that without a word. Fresh, chill air brushed my cheeks as he drew me out through the front door, but we didn’t stop there. Dex’s rough grip slipped from my arm. His thumb massaged the spot where he had gripped me firm but not too tight a moment before and trailed to my hand, closing his fingers around my fingers.

A question was in that touch that I wasn’t sure either of knew the answer to right then. A question he’d been seeking an answer for over the last weeks.

I wasn’t any more ready to provide him with what he sought tonight than I had been earlier in the week or any of the weeks I came to his house to care for him. My heart beat a faint staccato in my chest, like it, too, held out hope that I'd find something I knew I couldn't give. His thumb brushed over my wrist in gentle caress so different to his dominating nature that his touch drew my heart into my throat.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered again, choking on the apology for wanting to hurt him.

For wanting revenge at being lonely and missing him when I was the one who pushed him away in the first place.

Seeing the pain in his eyes put everything into perspective. He walked away from me because I couldn't give him what he wanted, and in revenge I gave away what he claimed. We might pretend to hate each other, but somewhere along the line the H-word turned into the unspoken L-word…and I missed that.

Or maybe I just couldn't accept that he loved me and what that might mean that I would have to commit to. What scared me so much when he was right in front of me the entire time.

But the way he touched me now, the tightness in his features as he stared at my just-kissed lips, only not by him…that hurt more than anything else.

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