Page 27 of Teach Me
Please.The tiny little word came out in a whisper. He closed his eyes against it, feeling like the complete dick he knew he was. That didn’t stop him from opening his eyes and crossing the room toward her. “Jess, we need to talk. I need to explain… Damn it, look at me.”
She squared her shoulders and met his gaze head-on as he came to a stop just beyond her knees. “It’s fine. Just take me home.”
“After we talk.” For some reason he didn’t understand, he needed her to get it, to see that he was right, that this would only end up hurting her, hurting both of them in the long run.
“And what if I don’t want to talk about it? God.” She pushed to her feet, going toe-to-toe with him. “I’m not a child. I don’t want to talk. Take. Me. Home.”
“Not until you listen to me. I know I handled this wrong. I know I was an ass—”
Her entire face went blank in mock innocence. “Ya think?”
He reached for her, needing to hold on, to control the crazy spiraling this situation had fallen into. It was only Jess stumbling backward, panic on her face as she avoided his grip, that brought him to his senses. He snatched his hands back.
Just stop. Just…
He closed his eyes. Fisted his hands. Counted long breaths in the faint hope he could regain control.
Another breath. And another.
The calm he’d lost somewhere back in the shower didn’t return, but he manufactured a weak facsimile of it before he spoke.
“I’m sorry, Jess.”
She seemed to get that he wasn’t just apologizing for scaring her. “Me too.”
“Look at me please.” He kept himself quiet, still. Arms crossed protectively over her chest, she raised her eyes to his. “Baby, you are very desirable; you have to know that by now. So damn desirable, but—”
A snort made her derision clear, but the glistening of tears in her eyes told the true story. “Yeah, I got that from the way you couldn’t back up fast enough.” Apparently done with the whole thing, she started across the bedroom. “I’ll call a cab.”
“No! No, I’ll take you. Give me just a minute.”
The longest seconds of his life passed like cold molasses; then Jess blinked, and the sweep of her lashes erased all trace of tears from her eyes. “Fine.”
He kept his gaze on her as he backed toward the bathroom. It stayed on her until he had no choice but to turn. Even then, her image lay, superimposed, over everything his sight took in. The scent of warm woman and water lingered as he grabbed sock, shoes, wallet. It was the only time he’d smell her here, he knew. Not just because she was a virgin, but because she brought out something in him he couldn’t control—and control was everything. Telling himself to keep his emotional distance didn’t work with Jess; it never would. He knew that now.
He grabbed his keys on the way out. Jess stood stiffly by the front door, waiting. Conlan didn’t touch her when he escorted her to his car or as he drove her back to her place. They sat in silence, a sense of finality filling the seconds as they stretched into minutes. When he pulled up to her apartment building, Jess didn’t look back.
“Good-bye, Conlan.”
And that was it. He didn’t know what he’d expected her to say, but those two words didn’t even come close. Watching her walk through the glass door, he knew this might very well be the last time he saw Jess. It was a bit ironic that she was the one walking away.
Chapter Twelve
She pushed through the door of her apartment, spinning around to close it quickly, but not quick enough. Brit was in before she could protest.
“Brit, I’m tired.”And you’re drunk, she wanted to say but didn’t. Her heart was already pounding. That sense of walking on tiptoes, at first so subtle, was now an ever-present reality she couldn’t escape. She needed to soothe him, not because she loved him, but because she was afraid of what he would do.
She was afraid. And there was no one here to help her.
Brit turned those cool blue eyes her way, and her blood froze in her veins. It wasthatlook, the one that preceded snide comments on something she’d done wrong, someplace she wasn’t good enough, some expectation she hadn’t fulfilled to his exacting degree. If she was lucky. If she wasn’t…
The ice crept through her muscles, holding her as tight as any shackles ever could.
“You’re always tired,” Brit said with a twist of his lips. “Maybe I’m tired.” He stepped into her space, his lean body belying the power she knew it held. “Maybe I want you to make me feel better.”
“Not tonight.” Not ever if she could help it, if she could get herself out of the trap she’d let herself fall into. She’d always wondered how women could stay in an abusive relationship, could let a man treat them that way. She didn’t wonder anymore; she knew. The subtlety, the creeping tentacles of control that wrapped so tight around your throat you couldn’t even scream. Oh yes, she knew. She looked into Brit’s eyes and saw power and knew herself to be powerless. But there was one thing she wouldn’t hand over.
Her body.
