Page 22 of Into the Dark
“My offer?”
He gives me a puzzled look. “Yeah. To come up here and fuck you. A night buried inside you. That’s all.”
I stiffen. I don’t like his tone. Or the smirk on his face. Or the intent in his eyes. Of course, it was what I offered, but it wasn’t exactly what I meant. Okay, I meant it, but I didn’t mean it. I feel lightheaded again. A little sick too. This room is too hot.
With a tug, he pulls on the end of his tie before rolling it up and putting it in his pants pocket. He goes for his cufflinks next. Left first before rolling up his sleeve and doing the same with the right. His movements are quick, sparse, and efficient, and they make me think of someone about to go into a fight, not someone undressing for sex. As he removes his watch, he draws his gaze down my body and then back up.
“Well, what are you waiting for? Hurry up and take the dress off. As great as you look in it, I’ve really fucking missed what’s underneath, to be honest.” He runs his hand over his new facial hair and moves toward me, slipping his watch into his pocket as he does.
As he gets closer I take a step back from him, the intensity making me feel crowded and claustrophobic and too bloody hot. I can’t breathe. As I step back, I stand on the train of my dress, staggering a little. Nauseating heat licks down my spine.
Why is it so hot?
The room starts to spin then, my equilibrium wobbling dangerously as dizziness washes over me. I’m going to be sick. Okay, this is not how I planned this. I can’t bloody collapse in front of him. He’ll think I’m drunk. He’ll think I invited him up here because I was drunk.
Christ, I really shouldn’t play these games with him.
“I feel…I’m too hot,” I mutter.
He smirks. “Yeah, you really fucking are. Another reason to get you out of that dress. Do you have silk or lace on under there?” he says as he takes a step toward me. He’s close now, about two feet away maybe—close enough that I can see the trace of wetness on his lips from his tongue. He looks so good, and I still want him, but I can’t decide if I want him to hold me or fuck me as I try to stop myself from passing out.
“This is starting to feel like old times, isn’t it? You cockteasing again, baby?” He smirks. “Did you miss it, my cock? Tell me you missed it, Alex. Tell me you need it inside you again.” His voice is low as he brings his hands to his belt, but there’s an edge to it—a sharp edge.
“Stop it, Jake.”
He stops and frowns. “Stop what? I asked you downstairs if you knew what you were doing and you said you did. Like you always do.”
I laugh a little, but it’s empty. “Oh, like I always do? Bloody hell, I’ve never known what I’m doing when it comes to you, Jake, and you know that very well.”
“Well, it took you long enough to fucking realize it!” he snaps angrily. “But I warned you downstairs, didn’t I? It’s too fucking late now. Take off that fucking dress—or I will.”
It’s shamefully hot. The need in his eyes, the want in his tone. Goose bumps break out over my whole body from it, and the throbbing between my legs intensifies. Then, from some hot, needy place inside, I picture it: him throwing me down onto the bed, shoving my dress up, and yanking down my underwear before taking me angrily and roughly from behind.
Despite all we’ve said, I decide to play this game with him. Again.
I smile. “Go on then. Take it off.”
He looks momentarily shocked. Then the smile spreads across his mouth and up into his eyes, slow and tempting. He’s still the most beautiful, most mind-numbingly sexual man I’ve ever laid eyes on. One look, a narrowing of his eyes, a lick of his lip, and he has me undone for him like he always has. Nothing has changed between us. Not a single thing.
He stares at me for what feels like a very long time, but he doesn’t move closer, and he doesn’t move to take off my dress. “So we really are cockteasing again then. Suppose it worked out pretty well for me last time.” He shrugs.
“Not entirely. I seem to recall I smacked you across the face.”
“Well, you know I like you when you’re angry.”
“Oh, I’m not angry, Jake.” I’m emotionally exhausted and confused and very turned on, but I’m not angry.
“Really?” He looks unconvinced. “Well, you’re not fucking naked either. How about you stop messing me about, yeah? Why the fuck am I here, Alex?”
“Excuse me? You came here tonight. You came to see me. I was…coping. I was trying to deal with it…trying to move on. I was moving on…” It’s a lie, obviously. One I’m certain he can see right through.
The look on his face isn’t knowing though; it’s something else altogether. “Oh, you were moving on, were you? Well, that’s fucking amazing, Alex, really. Good for you. I’m really fucking happy for you. I’ll go then, shall I, and let you get on with that?” He gestures toward the door, sarcasm and fury dripping from his tone.
That’s not what I wanted to say. It’s the last thing I wanted to bloody say. Because I’m not moving on. I’m not dealing with it. I’m split in two and broken apart, and I have a huge gaping hole where he used to be. He looks so bloody angry—angrier than I ever remember seeing him. I drop my eyes to the floor, throat thick with tears.
“This isn’t all my fault, Jake. You need to take some of the responsibility. You were there too.” We were together. We did this together.
“Oh, I’m aware I’m the villain here, Alex. That fact isn’t lost on me, don’t worry.” His voice sounds raw. Broken. I lift my head to meet his eyes, which are still hard and cold. “I’m the scum of the fucking earth—trust me, I know. Tell me again how I disgust you. Tell me again how you can’t love me. But do me a favor and do it now, yeah, because being this close to you and not being able to touch you or hold you is fucking killing me.”