Page 66 of Under Pressure

“I can’t take you with me every time. I need to focus on my own stuff.” I brace myself against her hurt, her outrage, whatever emotion that expressive face might throw at me, but the comment rolls right off of her.

“Oh, well, I’ll just punch the bag on my own—”

“I don’t want you there,” I burst out. “I can’t get anything done with you around.”

Her eyes go wide, then narrow. Ah, there it is. “What’s wrong with you? Why are you being so rude?”

“I’m always rude. You knew that about me the first time you met me.” I try to continue packing my bag, but she won’t let it go.

“I thought we were past all that.”

“Must have been in your head.”

She stares at me open-mouthed. “Don’t expect me to keep sleeping with you if you’re going to act like that.”

I scoff. “Like I care. I didn’t like it like that anyway.”

She takes a step back, for the first time looking truly wounded. My chest burns at her expression, no matter how much I’ve mentally prepared for it.

“You didn’t like it?” she whispers. “I’m bad in bed?”

“No.” I immediately reach out to comfort her, then snatch my hand back, remembering the purpose behind all this. “I just mean it was too…” Personal. Intimate. Soul baring. “It was too vanilla.”

She blinks. “I’m too vanilla?”

I look away, zipping up my backpack. “Uh-huh.”

“So what do you like? Bondage?”

My head swivels back toward her.

“You want me to handcuff you? Tie you up? Something like that? Or do you want to do those things to me?”

My mouth goes dry at just the thought, even though I’ve never done any of that before.Yes, yes, and yes. I shake my head. “No, it’s not that. We’re just… not a good fit,” I lie.

Her eyes flash fire, her dander up now. “Bullshit.”

I set my jaw, keeping my mouth shut, the two of us staring at one another from across the room until her face gradually softens by degrees. A light shines in her eyes, some kind of realization upon her. “Okay,” she finally says, throwing me off guard.

“What?”

“Okay,” she repeats, like she’s agreeing with everything I’m saying.

I shake my head. Is this a mind game? “Why are you being so understanding? I’m acting like an asshole.”

“You can’t push me away that easy,” she says gently, slowly approaching, every step she takes making my heart beat faster.

She puts her arms around me, holding me close, but I don’t return the embrace. All I can do is stand still, breathing heavy, desperately wanting to deny her just as much as I want to clutch her tight.

This is so stupid. Does she think she’s going to heal me with a hug? Change my whole life perspective because she figured it out and didn’t run when I tried to push her away?

But the longer we stand here, her soft warmth seeping into me, her steadfastness crumbling my defenses, the better it feels, until I find myself wrapping my arms around her too. I lean my head down to fit my nose in the crook of her neck, breathing her in, shuddering as her sweet scent surrounds me, calms me, until all I know is her.

She strokes her fingers through my hair, both of us quiet as we stand in the middle of the lab. “This doesn’t change anything,” I whisper.

“If you say so.”

“Why are you being so goddamn reasonable?” I ask, defeated.

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