Page 31 of Velvet Thorns
“You can keep hating me until it destroys us both,” he whispers, and I can hear the agony threaded through every word, “or you can let me try to fix what I ruined. Just for tonight.”
“It’s too hard,” I choke, the words barely making it out whole.
“Then tell me how to make it better. Tell me what you need.”
“Disappear,” I whisper. “Just… vanish the way you did when I needed you most.”
“No,” he says, calm in a way that makes me want to scream. “I’m not leaving. Not this time. I’ll sit here and watch you hate me all night if that’s what it takes, but I’m not leaving you again.”
“You said I could walk away.”
“Not until I’ve said what I need to say. You gave me tonight. And you’re smart enough to know I wouldn’t be here unless I was planning on staying forever.”
“You keep saying that like I want you.”
“Baby, you soaked my cock earlier. Now, I may not have much experience with women, but I’m pretty damn sure that means you liked what you felt.”
I blink at him, stunned. “That’s your logic? Seriously? That’s what you’re going with?”
He just watches me, all smug confidence and zero shame.
“First of all, I got off on the power IthoughtI had—the illusion you let me believe—while you humiliated me and said shit you didn’t even mean. And second, what planet do you think I live on? ‘Not much experience with women’? Are you kidding me? I was there, Phoenix. I remember the lineup of cheerleaders you ran through before we were even out of high school. You think I forgot that?”
I gesture at him—his broad chest, that perfect face, the whole infuriating package that’s probably ruined more women than I can count.
“You don’t need to lie to me or play some celibate saint because I honestly don’t give a shit if you fucked your way through half the state.”
He doesn’t flinch, but the grin fades, and the muscle in his jaw ticks. “Well, that’s a shame because I’ve cared enough about you to be standing in front of you now, having never touched anotherwoman.” He stares down at me, and for the first time tonight, there’s something vulnerable in his expression. “The last girl I kissed was you.”
“Stop lying to me.”
“Look at me. Look at my face. You know me. You know I’m not lying.”
I see the truth. It’s raw and stupid and so painfully etched all over him. I knock back the rest of my whiskey, the burn doing nothing to dull what’s rising in my chest, and I pour another. Before I can think better of it, I drop into the nearest chair and point toward the bed for him to sit.
“How could I kiss anyone when you were the last girl on my lips?” He leans forward, elbows on his knees, and there’s no smirk now—just the truth. “I’m not ashamed to still have my virginity at twenty-eight. Not when the only woman I’ve ever wanted to touch me is you.”
“Then you’ll die a virgin.”
“Maybe.” He shrugs. “But I’d rather die yours than live as anyone else’s.”
I down another mouthful of whiskey, not because I need it but because I don’t know what the hell else to do with this.
“You realize none of this makes any sense to me, right? Where the hell have you been, Phoenix?”
He leans back, resting his hands behind him on the bed. “That’s the wrong question, baby. Try again.”
I drain half my drink, feeling the whiskey scorch down my throat. “Fine. Where do you live?”
“New York.”
“Give me the address.” When he rattles it off—my building, the floor directly below mine—I go completely still. The glass freezes halfway to my lips, and I don’t know whether to laugh, scream, or hurl this tumbler at his beautiful, lying face. “Why?”
“To be close to you. To watch and wait until the day came when I felt like I deserved to look you in the eye again.”
“And today felt like that day?”
“No, not even close. But you came looking for me, so it didn’t matter anymore whether I deserved it or not.”
