Page 91 of The Finish Line
I’m fucked now, either way. If I come clean about our possible threat, then she’ll only slam up her defenses.
One fight at a time, Tobias.
“I’m talking about being blindsided without a good reason when you’ve had time to tell me the truth!”
You’re so fucked. Pack a bag for your ass and kiss it goodbye.
The man inside of me refuses to back down, the man who desperately wants to mend this bridge. He wants to crush her mouth, silence her with his tongue, and punish her severely with his cock. This is anything but progress, and I fear all my efforts the last three weeks are fruitless by how she’s regarding me—which only enrages me further.
“I’ve had time? I’ve had time? Putain.” Fuck. She pushes past me, refusing to meet my eyes, and I follow on her heels. “Between bussing tables and following you around like a second puppy and getting the door slammed in my face, I’ve had time, right?”
“Don’t you dare! I haven’t slammed the door in your face!”
She squares off with me across the bed as I unclasp my watch and slam it on her nightstand, unloading my pockets. “Might as well have. And believe it or not, Trésor, you are not the easiest woman to fucking talk to. If the subject would have come up—”
She rips her sweater off, and my eyes drop to the swell of her perfect tits atop her heaving chest.
“Eyes up here, Pierre, and pardon me if I don’t ask the right questions pertinent to the secrets you’re keeping at the time.” She throws up her hands. “Who the hell knows with you!”
“What do you really expect from me, Cecelia? Did you expect me to come back to you a completely reformed man with all the answers, who makes all the right moves? I’m still the same man—the villain. And I’ll always play dirty to protect you and keep you safe. I’ll consider making any allowance you need to try and make this work, but you’re truly fucking mistaken if you think I’ll shy away from the ruthless, unforgiving, and cruel parts that still exist in me when need be. You asked for the man you fell for... well there’s two sides to him, and neither are going anywhere.” I cut my hand through the air. “End of.”
I swear I see smoke coming from her nostrils, expecting fire to follow as her eyes narrow. In a flash, she shoves down her jeans and unclasps her bra before pulling open her chest of drawers.
“Don’t you fucking dare!” I boom. “I’d rather you take that fucking Beretta from your purse and shoot my cock!”
“Don’t tempt me, King!” She turns, tossing the fresh pair of flannel pajamas on the bed—same fucking pattern, this pair in light blue, and I’ve never in my life hated the sight of an inanimate object so much. She drops the fuzzy socks—the cherry on top—onto the pile, and I cup the back of my neck and stare up at the ceiling.
“You just want to hold a grudge,” I huff. “We were getting closer this morning, and this is your way of fucking that up. You’re cowering away, again.”
Silence ticks by along with the small clock next to her head, just before she hurls it at me and misses me by an inch.
I take a step forward as she jerks the top of the pajamas over her head, and it might as well be a knife to the chest. It’s clear I’m not the only one who plays dirty. “We just relived every bad fucking thing that happened between us, Tobias. I think it’s best we just stop talking.”
“Yeah, because that’s been working out for us so far. And it makes your whole argument moot. More silence—that ought to help.”
When she reaches for the pajama pants, I hit my limit.
“If you so much as stick a toe in those goddamn pants, you’re declaring war, and all bets are off!”
She shoves a leg in as my patience snaps.
“Merde. Bon sang, femme. Tu me testes au-delà de mes limites!” Fuck. Goddamn it, woman. You are testing me past my limits.
She pushes her second leg in, pulling the drawstring tight around her waist to rub the salt into my gaping chest. “Well, welcome to the fucking club, Frenchman! Good to see we’re finally on the same page!”
“Anything but. We’re not even in the same fucking place anymore.”
“Fine with me.” She points to the door. “You know the way out.”
She sucks in a breath, and I can see her immediate regret. The shred in my chest is barely manageable as I drop my gaze and grab a pillow from my side of the bed. “Well then, my treasure, I’ll save you the trouble of showing me the door twice.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Cecelia
I spent the majority of the night tossing and turning, knowing I could ease the too-familiar ache of missing him by simply taking his hand and guiding him back to bed. And once his arms were around me, I could take back the words I didn’t mean. But a lot of those words I did mean.
His recalling of our story to my mother blew my mind and shed some much-needed light on so many things. That’s all I wanted, but he was right. I’ve refused him at almost every turn to explain his reasoning for the things he’s done. I’ve damn near made it impossible for him to confess anything by avoiding both him and his explanations.