Page 32 of Pucks and Books
I open my eyes and find her slowly lowering herself into a chair. She brings her lip in between her teeth, and my stomach clenches. “Well, that doesn’t sound good.”
I clear my throat free of the emotion that is silently suffocating me. I don’t want to be like the guys who’ve hurt her, but I’m realizing I’m exactly that. “I had more fun yesterday than I can even put into words, but I feel like I gave you the impression it was more than a one-time thing.” I watch as all kinds of emotions move across her face. Anger, disappointment, and then embarrassment. She closes her eyes, and then she covers her mouth. My heart breaks in my chest at the sight of her, and I can’t take it. “I don’t mean to hurt you,” I say roughly into the phone.
She scoffs, but I can see I have hurt her. She looks at the ceiling, blinking hard as she forces a laugh. “You haven’t. I’m fine. I assumed it was a one-time thing, but I mean, I had a great time and wouldn’t turn down another hookup.”
The word hookup sets my teeth on edge.
I swallow thickly, and I almost get out of the car when I see the tears roll down her cheeks.
Those tears eviscerate me.
My own voice is gravelly as I force myself to say, “Yeah, we’ll have to see. I’m super busy, and I really don’t have the time to devote to you. You know how it is.”
“Absolutely. No worries.”
I admire her strength, but it doesn’t ease the self-loathing. All it does is make me want her more. Make me want to take back every single thing I just said and devour her. Get between her legs and make her forget every lie I spoke. Damn it. Why is this so hard? What is wrong with me?
I don’t need anyone to answer that for me. I know exactly what is wrong with me.
I want her.
Hell, might as well tear the C off my jersey and replace it with a T for Trash.
Because I am the pure trash she spoke of.
CHAPTER 20
Louisa
I wipe away the stupid tears, hating myself for being so vulnerable.
I knew this was going to happen. I did. I expected it. But still, sitting here crying over sex? I mean, come on! I’m just as tragic as the heroines in the instalove stories I’ve read. I was stupid enough to think something could happen between us. That it wasn’t a one-time thing. But I knew. Oh, I knew. We jumped each other with no cares, no questions, nothing but the primal need for each other. That stupid pull was just me being a horny bitch, and these tears, well, I don’t know what they are.
I’m absolutely not crying over the fact that he dumped me.
He didn’t dump me! We weren’t even together. We just fucked, and it’s cool. I can get the same pleasure from my toy and my dragon with two cocks book. My tears fall faster at the loneliness that follows that thought. But fuck that! I wipe my face aggressively. I’d rather care for myself and love myself than depend on some fucking man.
Each time Ciaran apologizes, it only makes me madder, and I feel so dumb. I made this into something it wasn’t. He gave me no promises, except those of orgasms, and I ran with it. I wanted it to be more. I wanted so badly what the heroines in my books have, what Austen has, that I allowed myself to yearn for something more than what our time together was.
It was just sex.
Great sex.
Mind-blowing sex.
“You don’t have to apologize, Ciaran. It’s cool.”
He hesitates, and I don’t understand that. “I’m truly sorry,” he says in a throaty, almost emotion-clogged tone.
As if he’s hurting doing this…. What the hell?
If this was a one-time thing, why is he struggling? Why is he acting like I’m the one ending it? His actions and words make no sense to me, but I can’t stay on the phone. “No worries. Don’t be a stranger.”
And I hang up, hoping like hell I never see him again. Which isn’t true. I wish I could see him face-to-face. Ask him why he doesn’t want me. Doesn’t he see how great we fit together, how wonderful the pleasure is between us? Maybe he’s embarrassed. Maybe he didn’t have a good time and I just imagined it, but then…the way he held me… All possessive-like. As if I was his.
I was.
But no more.