Page 43 of Surviving Slater
Chapter Eleven
Iclamped my mouth shut, reeling from his words. His observation had been unexpected. Not once since I'd been sleeping with the opposite sex had one of them ever noticed.
He continued to study me but I remained silent, unsure of what to say. I couldn't explain it without revealing my deepest, darkest secret. The one time I had been vulnerable and almost opened up to him, he had shut me out. The pain of that memory refused to allow me to tell him anything.
He rubbed the back of his neck and took a step closer.
"What are you talking about?" I said, trying to deflect his question.
"You know exactly what I'm talking about," he threw back, his gaze astute. I bit my bottom lip, trying to figure out what I could say next.
"I don't." I decided to pretend I didn't know what he was talking about. His eyes narrowed.
"Don't lie to me," he said, his tone low.
I swallowed. I hated the way he could see deeper than anyone else. I turned away from him, afraid of what he would be able to read in the depths of my soul reflected in my eyes. His hand touched my shoulder but I shrugged it off.
Come on, think! I told myself, feeling my rising panic. I turned to face him, refusing to allow him to put me on the back foot.
"It's your imagination." I refused to admit anything, despite my revealing body language.
He raked a hand through his hair in frustration.
"Are you thinking of someone else?" he asked.
I was stunned. It was ludicrous. He was all-consuming; there was no room for anyone else.
"No," I assured him.
"I won't be a substitute for someone else." His eyes blazed with possessive anger despite my answer.
"You aren't," I repeated, shaking my head. No one could make me feel the way he did. Only one look was enough to set me on fire.
"Then tell me why you do it?" he persisted. He wasn't going to let this go.
I refused to be pushed to say something I wasn't ready to.
"What does it matter?" I asked. As long as he was getting what he needed on a physical level, why was it an issue?
He had a determined look in his eyes. "It does."
I put my hand to my forehead briefly. I felt confused and hesitant. I pressed my lips together for a moment to give me time to pick the right words to use.
"This thing between us," I said, indicating the space that separated us, "it's just supposed to be physical, just sex."
He nodded.
"Telling you what you want to know would change that." His stare didn't lose its intensity. "Do you want the responsibility of knowing why?"
His forehead creased while he studied me for a few moments before he shook his head gently. Just like I thought. Even though I hadn't wanted or expected him to act differently, I felt a slight disappointment that he didn't care enough to want to know.
"I need to go," I said, moving to the front door to cover up my disappointment.
"Let me at least drop you off," he offered.
"Sure," I agreed, determined not to allow him to see how much his observation had affected me.
He got his keys and walked me to the door and then out to his car. I got into the passenger side while he got into the driver's side.
