Page 66 of Imogen

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Imogen

I can feel the rejection coming before he even utters a word. It swirls around me like a black mist, threatening to consume my entire being. I feel seventeen again. I was foolish to think this time would be different—that we were different.

The skies are darkening with the threat of a storm brewing, dousing the room in a grey glow. It’s fitting since that is how my mood has gone. The room is still, yet the beat of my heart pulses, echoing in my ears.

My arms wrap around my stomach as I step away from the door. “What was that?”

“What was what?”

He’s purposely avoiding the question. I silently dare him to look at me. He fucked me seven ways to Sunday throughout the night, but now he’s acting like it was only one-sided.

“Look at me,” I demand, and wait for him to meet my gaze before continuing. “You threw me off my bed like your wife just walked in.”

He rubs the back of his neck. “I heard your dad and panicked.”

“It seemed like more than that to me. Is there a reason you don’t want him to know about us?”

“There isn’t an us,” he blurts out, closing his eyes.

I deserve more than this. “There isn’t an us? Then what about last night?”

He begins to pull on his jeans, ignoring my question for a moment. “Last night shouldn’t have happened.”

“It shouldn’t have happened?” I repeat, and now it’s me being dumb.Hekissed me.Hestarted this. “If last night wasn’t supposed to happen, then why did you come here? Why did you sleep with me?”

He throws his jacket on my bed. “Because you tempt me, Imogen. Fuck! You don’t even realise how much power you have over me,” he cries.

“You have just as much power over me,” I yell. “’Cause I made a promise to stay away from you when I was seventeen and yet you are always still there.”

He pulls at the strands of his hair. “This can’t happen between us,” he orders. “I mean, it can’t happen again.”

“It’s a little late for that,” I snap.

“Christ, Imogen. Do you think this is easy for me?”

I scan him up and down. “Yeah. I really do.”

“Well it isn’t. It’s not as black and white for me as it is for you.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” I squeak.

“Just that I have more to lose than you do,” he responds.

“Is this about my dad?”

He grabs his jacket, throwing it on. “It doesn’t matter what it’s about. I came here last night to tell you it can’t be more than what it was. I fucked up. But I’m trying to make it right.”

He goes to reach for the door but I stand in front of it, blocking him from leaving. “You can’t do this. You can’t come in here and mess with my feelings like this without giving me a reasonable explanation. If it was just to fuck, admit it. I’ll let you leave and I won’t look back. But if it’s because of something else, then stop being a coward.”

He closes his eyes, masking his emotions. “Imogen, just stop.”

“No, goddamnit. Tell me! I deserve that much from you,” I cry.

He slams his fists on the door, either side of my head, and leans in. His emerald green eyes, fixed on me, narrow slightly. “What do you want me to say? It’s not you, it’s me? ‘Cause it is me. I told you I didn’t want to hurt you and look where we are. I can’t think straight when I’m around you.”

Then why is he doing this?“You are hurting me. You are hurting me now and I have no idea why. I thought we had a great time last night.”

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