Page 32 of Confession
“Was I right to leave last night?” Vitali asks.
My heart skips. “Yes.”
“Are you sure?”
“I couldn’t have talked to you last night, and I know that’s what you wanted.”
“Can you talk to me today?”
I find a coffee filter and put it in the basket. “I never thought in a million years that you’d be like this.”
“You’re so bad about evading questions,” he complains. “You want me to ask what you mean by ‘like this,’ so you can make this about me. But what I want is for you to answer my question. Can you talk to me today?”
I cross my arms, uncomfortable. “I’m sorry, okay? I don’t know why I got like that.”
“You don’t?”
His doubt annoys me. I was being honest.
“Okay,” he says, reading my face. “I believe you. Should we not have done that?”
Panic spikes. Fuck. I knew this was going to happen. I got one night, one fucking night, and I ruined it.
Vitali is out of his chair and moving my way. I tense automatically, but when he’s right in my space and reaches to the back of my head, threading his fingers into my hair and gripping firmly, I relax.
I hate that I need to be dominated like this, but I do. I fucking do.
Vitali says quietly, “I need to know that you’re okay.”
“I’m okay.”
“You shut down last night.”
“Yeah.”
“I’ve never seen you shut down like that.”
“You’ve never fucked me before,” I point out.
“Does sex always do that to you?”
“You got pissed last night when I mentioned past sexual partners.”
“You’re twisting things a bit, but that’s basically true. Fine, then. No talking about past sexual partners. I don’t want to think about you with anyone else.”
“Let go of my hair.”
“No, you answer me better when I have physical control of you. You’re calmer.”
Shame creeps through me—and he fucking sees it.
“Oh, Quinn. No.”
My throat tightens. Fuck.Don’t you dare fucking cry, you fucking pussy.
I elbow him away from me, forcing him to either fight me or let go. He lets go. I open the coffee can and start spooning coffee into the filter. I lose count so I add a few more scoops. I snap the thing shut and hit the button.
“You’d feel this way too,” I tell him, “if our positions were reversed.”
