Page 47 of Never His Girl
“What does she know?” I dare to ask, but his hardening expression tells me that’s a wall he’s not prepared to let come down just yet.
“Believe me, if it were just my secret to confess, I’d tell you in a heartbeat, Southside. But it’s not that simple.”
His eyes lock with mine and I’m so, so torn. Half of me wants to believe him, but the other half knows all too well what happened the last time I trusted the devil.
“I… I need time to think. Time to—”
“You can choose whether you believe what I’ve told you about the video,” he says, cutting into my thoughts. “You can even choose whether you believe what I said about Parker. But you don’t get to doubt that I feel something for you. Not even for a second.”
He speaks those words with such authority. There’s no refuting this blatant refusal to let me question that portion of his confession.
“West, we—”
“What do I have to do?”
His deep voice is calm and certain, penetrating the space between us before moving over my skin like lightning through the clouds after a passing storm. But calm and certain are the exact opposites of my current mood, because West has me feeling things I’m not allowed to feel for him.
Not before I know his story checks out.
Not until I know I had him all wrong just one week ago.
I’ve been so furious with him, sodonewith him. Then, here he comes, saying I’ve been mistaken.
He stands, and the first step he takes toward me makes it hard to breathe again.
“I’m an asshole. No one knows that better than you,” he admits, causing my gaze to flutter back toward his. “But like it or not, Southside, I’m not going anywhere.”
I’m silent, unsure what I’m supposed to say to that.
If I didn’t already know he was persistent as hell, I would be sure of it now. There’s this look in his eyes that says as much. It’s a look of instability, like he’s one second from snapping and losing his shit if I don’t believe him soon. A look that screams he’s willing to go to some pretty drastic lengths to convince me, but… what if I let him inside my head and it blows up in my face again?
Yes, everything he’s saying sounds good, but I’ve been burned by him before.
He’s closer now and, without permission, he gently takes my waist. Instead of stopping him, I soak in that look he casts down on me, letting his green stare lower from my eyes, to my mouth, and finally to my breasts.
He’s so intense. The only thing that keeps me from burning up in his atmosphere is the slow breath I draw into my lungs. Being honest, I feel weak for him, but the hurt is still pinned to my flesh like a badge. One I’ll wear for however long it takes the wound to heal.
“Say it,” he groans, allowing the rawness in his voice to be heard. “Say you’re ready to let me show you it’s real.”
My head spins and, at first, I’m unsure what that means. A thousand different scenarios run through me, but none of those ended like this—with my feet being lifted off the ground. With West gripping my ass as he draws my body flush against his.
On instinct, my legs encircle his waist, and there’s no barrier between us where his once loosely tied robe has fallen open. Without letting me go, he slips it off one arm at a time, until he’s completely naked, and I feel him in ways I’ve tried to forget.
I hate that sadness is the prevailing thought in my head, but it is. Even more than I want him, I’m grieving the idea of letting this happen again.
What’s wrong with me?
Why can’t I just get him out of my damn system?
While I’m certain he doesn’t deserve me, there’s a piece of me that craves him and evenIdon’t understand it.
I’m addicted.
There’s no other explanation for what I fear I’m about to allow. No other reason I’d let a lavish hotel room, a few dozen roses, and a seemingly heartfelt speech get under my skin.
Not after what he did.
His lips are at least as hot and soft as I remember. They move against my mouth, but I don’t kiss him back. Not like I want to, anyway. I’m too angry I’m kissing him at all. Too angry my fingers are tangled in his hair. Too angry that I’m already wet for this ruthless bastard.