Page 44 of Second Shot

“What?” I bat my eyelashes up at him, stepping closer. “You don’t want me if it’s not achallenge?”

Raking his fingers through his already disheveled hair, he watches me warily. “I know what you’redoing.”

I place my hands on his stomach and lean into him, whispering huskily, “I’m giving you what you want. Thisiswhat youwant?”

Push.

Push.

Push.

It’s what I’m good at. Pushing buttons. Pulling away. Hiding from anything resembling realemotions.

“You have no idea what I want.” His voice is hoarse,clipped.

I glance down at the prominent erection he’s sporting and raise my eyebrows. “Clearly, Ido.”

He takes my hands, threading his fingers betweenmine.

The gesture is too intimate. “This isn’t aboutsex.”

“Of course not.” I dig deep inside me and pull out the last remnants of hatred I have towards him, and bite out, “You get a live-in fuckbuddy. I get a place to live. And Noah gets a dad who may be stoned when he comes home after partying with the strippers and puck bunnies that may have given his father an STD.” I keep the cold, aloof smile plastered on my face. “Win, win.Right?”

Push.

Push.

Push.

My comment is met with silence. But his eyes say everything, and they call mybullshit.

Yell at me. Fight me. Do anything other than look at me with the pity and understanding I see in youreyes.

He doesn’t. Instead, his hands come up to my face, cupping my jaw gently, despite the fierce look he givesme.

“You said no games. So, no fucking games, Brynne. You’re hurt. I get it. And you’re scared. Me, too. But this is happening. It already happened. You had my kid. You moved in with me. You’restayingwith me. So, drop the fucking act like you hate myguts.”

“I-”

His eyes narrow, stopping my words. “You don’t trust me. But youwill.”

And when I do, you’ll break myheart.

“I won’t,” he says as if reading my thoughts. “I won’t hurt you. If I do, I give you full permission to cut both my balls off and feed it to thedog.”

I can’t help but smile at the image. “FYI, you don’t have adog.”

He releases me and rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah, aboutthat.”

“Uh-uh. Noway.”

“A boy needs adog.”

“Which boy? You or Noah? ‘Cause I know who’ll end up taking care of it -me.”

Hechuckles.

“The rest of your stuff is arriving at noon today,” he says, changing the subject and walking to thefridge.

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