Page 21 of Call It What You Want
“Do you love him?” It’s the question that’s been plaguing me for months now, since I discovered they were dating.
I flex my hands at my sides. There was a time when I wouldn’t hesitate to reach out and touch her. I needed the feel of her skin more than I needed the air in my lungs or the blood in my veins. I’d memorized every dip and valley of her body. Even now, I could close my eyes and map out every faint scar, every freckle, like constellations scattered across the canvas of her flushed skin.
“Yes,” she says.
My hand is around her throat in a split second. Nowthatmakes her flinch. She whimpers, and I smile. Good. Let her feel the pain of my hand. Let it burn away the memory of every other guy who’s ever touched her…
“Funny, wasn’t long ago you said you lovedme,” I bite out.
Her throat flicks under my palm as she blinks up at me. If she’s scared, she doesn’t show it. Most girls would be a puddle of tears by now.
“Some things change,” she says stiffly.
“And some things don’t,” I reply, pulling her an inch closer.
“Whatever you think this is between us,” she says. “It’s all in your head. Anything we had…it died three years ago.”
My fingers tighten around her throat—just slightly—and her eyelids flutter closed in anticipation.In pleasure.Fuck, yeah. There’s my girl. She can say whatever the fuck she wants, but I know her. I know what she needs, what makes her breath hitch and her legs shake. She can lie to herself all she wants, but she can’t hide this part of herself from me.
“Your heart is racing,” I murmur, leaning in until my breath brushes across her lips. “Your body tells the truth, even when your mouth doesn’t.”
She shudders, and I smile.
“Say whatever you want, baby. Fight me with your lies. But we both know how this ends…”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Ava
God help me.
I stare up into his green eyes, hating the fact that he can read my body better than I can read my own thoughts. He knows exactly how to touch me, how to unravel me, how to pull apart the pieces I’ve worked so hard to encase in steel.
My throat is still caged in his hand, but it’s not fear that makes my knees my body tremble. It’s need. Ugly, selfish, fucked-up need.
But I won’t give him the satisfaction of knowing that.
I tilt my chin up as far as I can, and meet his gaze head-on. My voice is hoarse when it finally scrapes over my vocal cords. “You might know my body,” I whisper, anger seeping into every word. “But when it comes to the girl inside here—” I point to my chest. “—you don’t know shit.”
Because if he did know me—really knew me—he’d see how close I am to breaking. And I can’t afford to break. Not here. Not with him. I just need to hold it together until this is all over. Then we can go our separate ways again.
Forever, this time.
“I’m tempted to fuck you so hard, bury my cockso deep inside you,that you forget anyone else on this godforsaken planet exists butme.”
“If you want to fuck, then fine. Do it,” I bite out angrily. “Fuck me right now, so we can get it over with.”
I’m seething, but my threat is all bravado. If he calls my bluff and actually fucks me, then I’m screwed. Literally. Because I know myself. I’ve always had a weakness for Jackson McKnight, and if I allow myself to get sucked into his orbit again, it’ll devour me.
There’s a firm knock on the door.
“I’m fucking busy,” Jackson calls out, hand still wrapped around my throat.
A deep voice filters through the door. “Your uncle is downstairs. He needs to talk to you.”
“Fuck,” Jackson breathes, his eyes tracing my face, like he’s considering how much time he has. Can he make good on his threat and fuck me before going downstairs? “Tell him I’ll be right there,” he calls back.
When his hand finally drops away, the relief is so overwhelming it leaves me boneless. Then, without a word, he’s gone. Once he’s left the room, I slump forward, my hand flying to my throat as I drag in several gulps of air.
