Page 123 of Through You
I open the door to Artemis’s bedroom and the first thing I pick up is the dim light coming from one corner in the room. My heart accelerates when I notice that his bed is empty.
I rest my back against the closed door behind me, and my eyes find Artemis’s eyes. And that’s when I stop breathing. He’s shirtless, has a pair of pajama pants on, and is sitting on a chair next to the window. His hair is messy and the expression on his face is so blank it gives me the chills. I notice he’s holding a tablet in his hands. He turns it around to show me.
There are black-and-white screenshots from the security camera at the front of the house. He’s watched everything. To make things worse, these cameras record without sound. Which means he was only able to watch me talking with Daniel at four o’clock in the morning right after he sent those revealing texts.It’sjust a misunderstanding. Just choose your words wisely.My throat tightens when I look into his eyes, while he waits for an explanation. His shoulders and arms are tense, making the outlines of his muscles more pronounced.
“Are you going to tell me what’s going on?” he asks, tossing the tablet on the bed.
“It’s not what it seems.” I hate this clichéd response overused by liars and honest people alike. “He was drunk and I didn’t want him to drive home in that state.”
“Did you fuck him?”
“What does that have to do with—”
“Did you fuck him?” He stands up. “Oh wait, let me read you his last message: ‘I can still remember what it feels like to be inside you.’” The rage that his body language is giving off intensifies.
“My past sex life has nothing to do with you.”
“Yes, it does, when my girlfriend slips out in the middle of the night to meet up with a guy she’s fucked. Have you continued to see him?”
“No, of course not. This happened before you and I started seeing each other.”
“I don’t want you to see him again. And I want you to block him on your phone.”
That makes me raise an eyebrow. “Who are you to tell me what to do?”
“Do you want to keep on seeing him?”
“No. Absolutely not. But I’m the one who decides what to do with the people in my life.”
That makes him angrier. He knows he has no power over me.
I have been and always will be independent.
“Listen to me. I’m sorry. Tonight, I didn’t handle the situation in the best way. But I knew you would be angry, and I wanted to save you the aggravation. I just wanted to send him home in one piece.”
Artemis turns his back to me and runs his hand over his head. And I honestly don’t know what the hell is wrong with me, but seeing him angry and jealous is turning me on. The way his muscles are flexing, the displeasure in his eyes, the tension in his jaw and neck. I want him to use that rage to fuck me with everything he’s got. I shake my head, reacting to my fantasies. Sex with him has clearly done a number on me. He still has his back turned, so I make the first move. I wrap my arms around his waist and rest my cheek on his back. I can hear the beats of his heart and the loud breath he lets out in frustration.
“Do you know how close I was to coming out and beating him to a pulp?” he confesses, confirming what I already knew.
“But I held back. I know how much you hate violence. I thought of you, even after seeing you talking to another man in front of the house. And that’s because I’m madly in love with you.”
I plant a kiss on his back. My hands travel down his firm abdomen and slide inside his pajama pants. Artemis is caught by surprise and tenses.
“I’ve been a bad girl,” I whisper against his back. “Why don’t you fuck me to get rid of your anger?” I move my hand up and down, and he lets out a sigh.
“If you think sex is going to solve this . . .” He turns to face me, and pulls my hands out of his pants. The desire in his eyes gives him away. “You are absolutely right.”
And he kisses me desperately, pressing my body against his with passion. He pushes me backward until my lower back comes in contact with the desk. He picks me up by my thighs and places me on its surface.
He positions himself between my legs, one hand holding me by the waist while the other rips my underwear off. His lips move aggressively, almost with rage, against mine. And I’m enjoying it. I enjoy everything about this man. We kiss each other madly.
I slide my fingers to the waistband of his pajama pants and drag them down in one swift pull. I let out a moan when I feel his erection graze my inner thigh, and he’s barely started. He stops kissing me and his eyes search mine.
“I love you,” he tells me, and kisses me. And before I have the chance to say a word, he enters me in one single thrust.
And right here, against this desk, we make up over a round of angry sex that brings out our wildest and most wicked urges.
And though I have not given him my answer with words, I finally have one. Yes, I do know what love is. And it has been by my side, all my life.
