Текст книги "Sweet Temptation"

Автор книги: Wendy Higgins

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Текущая страница: 7 (всего у книги 25 страниц)

CHAPTER NINE

First Time for Everything

“Don’t wanna let you down, but I am hell bound.”

—“Demons” by Imagine Dragons

I wake with a low, underlying ache in my gut.

I am not right in many ways at this moment. I slept so hard last night and this morning that I didn’t even hear when Anna woke before me. I only just opened my eyes when I heard the shower cut on. Whisperers could have been swarming the room and I wouldn’t have known. I drag a hand through my hair.

The feelings I developed for Anna yesterday haven’t gone away—they’re still there, glaringly bright and agile inside of me—but a bit of the idiocy has worn off and I can see straighter.

I feel as if this trip has been a joy ride at our own private theme park, teetering dangerously above reality. I’m still on that ride, but the end is in sight. This cannot last forever. On one hand my chest drops into my stomach when I think of being apart from her, and on the other hand I’m eager to get us back to safety, apart from each other. It’s stupid to tempt fate, to endanger ourselves.

Just another day or so of this ride, and then it’s back to reality.

Speaking of reality, my body is right furious with me. The ache thuds as I imagine Anna in the shower, covered in slick bubbles, her hands sliding over every peak and valley and . . . ugh, damn it. I have to stop.

I stand and yank on a pair of cargo shorts and a T-shirt, modifying myself in a way that makes my issue less noticeable. I lean my fists against the side table and squeeze my eyes shut, breathing through the pain like a fucking woman in labor. Then I order room service, because Anna will need her strength when she finally meets her father, Duke Belial, in a few hours.

I haven’t let myself think much on their meeting. Now, as I lie back on the bed, I feel dazed at the thought of what might become of the little half angel after this day. When I met Anna’s adopted mother, Patti told me she believes Belial has Anna’s best interests at heart based on what she was told by the nun, but I am skeptical. He is a demon, and they can be quite convincing.

Nevertheless, there’s no hiding for Anna now. My father knows about her. If she tries to hide she will be hunted, found, and killed. I’m doing her a favor by bringing her to Belial. If he tries to make her work, she’ll be upset, no doubt, but she’ll be alive. My gut twists as I imagine her refusing, and I curse myself for not training her better these two days. Yesterday I selfishly coddled her innocence and soaked in her nurturing spirit, rather than attempting to show her some Neph survival skills, like how to pretend you don’t give a shit. Yeah, I should have done things differently, but now it’s too late.

Anna comes into the room looking fresh-faced with damp hair, and the beast inside me growls. I know, boy, I tell him. She’s bloody gorgeous, isn’t she? Ah, the things we’d do to her. . . .

As I lie there watching Anna braid her own hair, her fingers moving deftly through the smooth, wet locks, I have to bend a knee to block the effect she has on me. I expect my Neph curse to hit with unbearable pain, but it doesn’t. Just a steady, low cramp. I can only assume it’s because this strange other feeling makes me stare at her with an even deeper longing for something far more powerful. I shake off that thought. It can’t last. I allowed myself one day of ridiculous thoughts yesterday, and it’ll have to be enough to last a lifetime. Playtime is over.

When our food arrives, Anna is too nervous to eat. I wish I could take her fear away. I do have something that might take her mind off it for a moment, though, and for once I’m not talking about sex. I reach in my pocket to feel the smooth turquoise stone there. My heart jumps at the thought of giving it to her, and I need to stand.

I move to the window, still staggering from the madness I feel inside. So many thoughts to muddle through. I want to escort Anna into the prison to meet Belial, but they won’t allow me. She is on her own, and I can’t protect her. My only consolation is that she and her father will be surrounded by other people.

One way or another, after Anna meets her father today, she will be changed. It’s inevitable.

“You’ve gotten scruffy,” comes her soft voice. Her hand is suddenly against my face, her touch pulsing through me. I grasp her hand and shut my eyes. Why do I feel this way? I am not myself when I’m with her. I long for this simple touch far too much.

When I look at her, she tilts her head like the timid fawn she is, searching my soul. I wonder if she sees the blackness there. This is our last day, and then this has to end. I let her go and cross my arms, staring from the window.

“I have something for you,” I say.

She brightens and perks up at these words, and I’m suddenly nervous as hell.

Going for nonchalance, I pull the necklace from my pocket and hold it out, but she doesn’t take it. She only stares, making me more nervous.

“I saw you looking at it and thought you liked it.” Does she remember?

Her face slightly pinches and she blinks. I’m feeling like a fool here.

“Have I upset you?”

“No! I’m not upset. I’m just surprised. I can’t believe . . .” Oh, bloody hell. She’s crying. “I mean, I love it. Nobody’s ever given me anything like this.”

Oy, she’s making a huge deal of it. I’ve never been a gift giver. Gifts mean something to the giver, even more so than to the receiver most times. I should know. I receive loads of gifts that go straight into rubbish bins. But I’m afraid this means as much to Anna as it does to me, and that’s not a good thing. I drop the damned necklace into her hand and curse, shoving my fingers into my hair.

What have I done? I know I wanted to make her fall for me, but she is clearly a romantic. Here I am buttering her up just before she goes to meet her demonic father, who will probably be in shock when he sees just how innocent Anna is. Not that he should be too surprised, considering he slept with a fucking angel to conceive her, but still. I’ve changed my mind about letting Anna fall for me. It would not be good for her. It’s bad enough that I’ll likely pine for her like Peter Pan after Wendy. I don’t need her doing the same.

“This was a mistake,” I mutter.

“No.” Her voice is full of emotion when she takes my arm. “It wasn’t.”

“Don’t read into this, Anna. It would be a mistake to romanticize me.”

“I’m not,” she assures me. “It was a nice gesture. That’s all.”

Is it? If she believes that, we are both fools.

She wears the necklace to meet Belial. I have to remind myself it’s just an inanimate object. An accessory. Not a big deal. But she keeps reaching up and touching it as she stares off, deep in thought.

I have bunged things up royally, and I haven’t a clue how to turn it back. Nothing good can come of this, especially once she meets her father. I want to give her a list of warnings—don’t tell your father about me, don’t let him know how good you are, guard yourself and be careful what you say—but I can’t say any of this because we’re in the prison parking lot now and Belial could be listening.

The visitor doors open and I swallow hard. “You’re up,” I say.

I feel ill when she enters the building and leaves my sight. I remain still and listen carefully as she makes it through security, moves into an echoey room, and sits. Soon there are sounds of chains and feet shuffling. I cannot move. I feel paralyzed with helplessness. I’m listening so intently I can hear the shake of Anna’s breath. I nearly jump when a guard tells “LaGray” to sit. I didn’t know Belial’s earthly name.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” says a deep, scratchy voice. I assume this is Belial, and I’m momentarily floored by the gentleness there. He goes on, “. . . I wanted you to have a normal life.”

“There was never any chance of that,” Anna says softly.

She doesn’t sound scared, and I feel my own fear subsiding. Especially when Belial asks, “Have they treated you well, the people who raised you?”

His voice is filled with concern. And as I continue listening for a bit, realization soon hits me—he loves her. Of course he does. Patti was right. I’m certain Belial can sense the depth of her goodness, just as Duke Alocer can sense the goodness in Kopano. They are the sort of Neph who can soften even the hearts of demons. They are the kind of Neph who deserve love.

A knot that cannot be swallowed forms in my throat. Knowing Anna is safe, I start the car and drive away.

I peruse L.A. like a sightseer for a couple hours, but I don’t really see anything because my mind’s a disaster. I don’t understand the things I feel. I’ve always been a moody bastard, but this is beyond my normal scope. I go from rage to tenderness to terror to happiness in a few blinks. Anna’s angel voodoo is a dangerous tonic. This is worse than being piss-arsed drunk—it doesn’t seem to want to burn off.

I return to the prison with only minutes to spare—L.A. traffic blows.

I push my hearing through the walls of concrete and steel until I find that gruff voice once more, “. . . might be different for you. Your mother’s good might cancel out my bad. We don’t know . . .”

I let out a full breath. She’s fine. For the first time ever I feel strange about eavesdropping, so I pull back and ponder his words. I wonder if he’s talking about what I think he is: hell. And the fact that Neph are sent to hell after death, no matter what kind of life we’ve lived. Yes, perhaps it will be different for Anna. Her soul is too good for that kind of darkness. It would be the ultimate injustice, and I’m deeply disturbed pondering her suffering.

I step from the car and lean against it, waiting. From what I can tell, Anna didn’t get a verbal beating from her father, and I’m glad for her. When the doors open, and Anna filters out with the others, all the madness I felt today disappears. My blood rushes at the sight of her. But as she gets closer, the look on her face halts my thoughts.

Something is wrong. She ignores me and climbs into the car. I go around to the driver’s side and get us out of there. I want to ask what he did and what he said, but we’re still within his five-mile hearing range.

When we’re far enough away, I’m about to ask how it went, but she buries her face in her hands and cries the most pitiful, heart-wrenching tears I’ve ever heard. I have no idea what to say or do to make this better, which makes me feel weak and powerless.

Have I mentioned I hate when girls cry?

Thankfully, after five minutes of this she gives a loud sniff, wipes her eyes, squares her shoulders, and swallows away the rest of her tears.

“Were you listening?” she asks in a thick voice.

“A bit at the beginning and end, to make sure you were all right.”

She nods and proceeds to tell me every detail of their conversation. I usually zone out when girls talk this much, but I’m completely rapt with Anna’s storytelling. She pulls one knee up and turns her body toward me in the passenger seat, talking fast. I listen to the story of her parents’ epic, forbidden love—how they were soul mates in heaven before the Fall, and how he became a Duke to search for her on earth, finally finding her working as a guardian angel. Anna’s mother, Mariantha, broke all heavenly rules to inhabit her human charge’s drug-sickened body and be with Belial. He never cared about hurting humans, though he pushed drugs to keep his position and he was good at it. But all along, he only cared about Mariantha. For the first time ever, I find myself relating to a Duke.

When I get to the hotel we just park and sit there while she gets it all out. She hides nothing—making her joy, love, sorrow, and disappointment plain. Her father clearly loves her, but he’d been brutally honest about her fate on earth and afterward. She would have to at least appear to be working for the dark cause. She had to toughen up. I’d been wondering if her father would have positive news about Anna’s afterlife. He didn’t. She’s as hell-bound as any other Neph, as far as Belial knows. A sharp pang rips at my chest at the thought of that doom for her.

It’s not right. It’s not fair.

I shake my head and turn off the ignition. I haven’t worried about whether or not something was “fair” since I was a small child. It hadn’t taken long to realize nothing was fair in life. That bloody word shouldn’t even exist. But it’s the thought that continues to blaze through me—a soul like Anna’s should never be confined to hell. How could the One who made her even consider it?

Yet another thing to fill the churning pit of anger that fuels my daily life.

I’m incredibly edgy when we reach the hotel room. So much so that I stand in the doorway while Anna goes in, her arms crossed, lost in thought.

“This hotel has a gym,” I tell her. “If you don’t mind, I think I’ll get in a workout this afternoon while I can.”

Physical exertion is exactly what I need.

Anna nods absently and stares at her luggage. “I think I’ll do a load of laundry or something.”

“I can tell them we’d like laundry service when I pass the front desk.”

She gives me a puzzled expression. “Oh, you mean have the hotel do it? No way, that’d be way too expensive. There’s a Laundromat right across the street.”

I cringe. “You mean with the crackheads?”

Anna snorts and shakes her head. She’s already gathering her dirty clothes, and she even reaches for mine, but I step on the shorts she’s grabbing.

“You don’t have to do mine.” I’m a bit appalled. How can she be so casual about this?

“Oh, just let me.” She yanks the shorts out from under my foot. “I’ve had to use a Laundromat lots of times, and it’s perfectly safe. It’s mostly just moms. I’ll just, um, need some money. If that’s okay. I mean, not much, just a couple—”

I whip my wallet out in a flash to erase the embarrassed blush staining her cheeks, and thrust a bill at her. “You’re sure it’s safe? This is L.A., not backwoods Georgia.”

“Ha-ha.” She snatches the ten and stuffs it in her pocket.

“I’ll be listening,” I tell her.

She rolls her eyes, but then whispers, “Thanks.”

I keep my hearing locked around her for the hour plus that I run on the treadmill and do a series of push-ups and sit-ups. I’d prefer weights right now, but this poor excuse for a gym has none.

Anna’s been so quiet at the Laundromat that I decide to see if she’s all right with my own eyes. The place is completely dodgy from the outside, but when I walk in it smells clean and there’s a calming whir of washers and dryers going. Two old women are power-napping in chairs on the opposite side of the room from where Anna stands with her back to me, folding clothes.

She bends to pull my T-shirt from the dryer, and within two seconds flat my beast sniffs the air and smacks his lips. Anna is far too cute in those shorts. She raises my shirt in front of herself with a flap and does quick work with her fingers, ending with the shirt in the form of a perfect, flat rectangle. Should I be this impressed?

I’ve moved across the room until I’m just behind her, and I swear she’s so focused and lost in thought she doesn’t notice. Even after meeting her father and knowing fully what dangers are out there, she is still too trusting. It’s a damn good thing it’s only me creeping up behind her, and not some dangerous bloke.

And then I remember I am a dangerous bloke where Anna is concerned. I still plan to keep her safe from my father by taking her virginity at the first possible opportunity. It’s for her own good. The fact that I’ll enjoy the hell out of it is inconsequential. The thought of being that close to her sends a stream of heated adrenaline and need through my blood.

Before I can advise myself otherwise, I’m reaching for her waist. She startles at my touch, and I pull the back of her closer into me.

“Just me, luv,” I say. I shouldn’t let myself get this close, because I can hear the lust in my own voice. I wonder if she can hear it, as well. I wonder if she’s feeling the same. There is barely any space between us now, and I’m breathing in her scent from behind like a fiend who can’t get enough. Why must she smell so lovely?

“Kai . . . you shouldn’t . . .”

No, I really, really should.

I feel her tremble in my hands. “Unless you’re going to be my boyfriend, you shouldn’t touch me like this.”

Boyfriend. I go still, and for a heartbeat I want to smile. Would she want to be attached to me in such a way? Never once in all my life has the word boyfriend had a smiling effect on me. Boyfriend and girlfriend are the most useless, flimsy labels out there, yet people put such stock in them. They trust those labels to mean so much more.

But hearing Anna say it is rather charming and ironic. Like a lethal poison in a candy shell. She has no idea. None at all.

“The Neph are not permitted to be in relationships,” I say against her hair. “Especially not with one another.”

She’s quiet for a moment. “Nobody has to know. Just us.”

I am a maelstrom of emotion, spinning too quickly. I want to embrace this moment, have something all to myself, hide her away where she can remain as she is and say these sweet things to me all she wants. I’m filled with a longing far stronger and deeper than lust, and it makes my heart race. I’m out of bounds. Out of my territory. In a perilous place where I cannot afford to be. Ever.

“It can never happen,” I say. And I wonder if I’m saying it to her or myself.

Her body stiffens and her chin rises as she gently pries my hands from around her waist. I want to thank her for doing the thing I couldn’t do myself. I’m glad one of us is strong enough.

I leave her, taking deep breaths the entire way to the hotel room, attempting to shake off the odd sensations. This has gotten out of hand. I’ve allowed myself too much leniency where Anna is concerned. It began with harmless fun, but now it’s got to stop. Both our lives are at stake, and it’s time for me to control the reins.

Tonight, I will take things one step further and show Anna how good it tastes to live on the wild side. I’ll buy some alcohol. She’s such a lightweight—she’d be seeing the world differently after one wine cooler. I need for her to embrace her fate.

I’m primed and poised when Anna returns. I go for casual, lying on the bed with my feet crossed and a hand behind my head, pretending to watch the telly. She puts the clothes away and rummages through her bags, finally plopping a large book onto the opposite bed. I ignore her scowl.

“What are you getting into?” I ask.

She shoots me a suspicious and rather annoyed glance before saying, “English.”

Brilliant. Father made me study the great “romantics.” While Anna was memorizing Bible verses in Sunday school, I was memorizing Shakespeare and Byron, and any other rubbish that might get me into girls’ knickers.

I flick off the television and go to Anna’s bed, opening her book as I lie down. I wonder if she’ll be impressed with my skills. I am English, after all. I flick through the pages, and Anna sits as far away as possible. Hm. I’ll need to remedy that. I land on the sonnets but am quickly distracted when Anna begins to unbraid her hair. With each wavy strand that is freed from its binding, the book and all of our surroundings disappear.

Anna Whitt’s hair is bloody amazing. It’s a sin she keeps it held back all the time. It’s like heavy, golden silk falling around her, and her face is in absolute bliss as she runs her hands through it.

Must touch it . . .

Hot, raging longing fills my every cell. Blood pumps so fiercely in my ears that I cannot hear the beast pawing the ground, but I know it is, because I’m salivating. When she glances at me I quickly look down. I think she might’ve caught me.

She flicks through some pages and I can’t make out what she’s muttered.

“What’s the matter?” I ask.

I’m afraid she’s about to order me off her bed, but instead she goes on about the summer poetry assignment. Passion is spouting from her pores and I sit up. I can’t wait to throw my poetic genius at her.

She goes on and on, oblivious of her own beauty as she waves her fists and purses her lips in indignation. “The beauty of poetry is that it can mean different things to different people at different times. . . . It’s wrong to dissect poetry like this!”

She throws down her paper, breathing hard, and I suddenly cannot recall a single line of poetry I’ve memorized. All I can think about is touching her. Taking a chance that she might slap the shit out of me, I cup her face, surprised how hot her soft cheek is in my hand.

But she doesn’t smack my hand or move away. She stares at me, and I stare back.

This girl.

I am no match for her.

“Seriously,” she whispers. “You’re doing that bedroom-eyes thing again.”

Bloody right I am.

All at once we’re both crossing the space, crashing in a blaze of lips, ready and seeking, needing and wanting. God, it’s that epic feeling again. Like I will die if we can’t devour each other and become one. I’m awash in her pear and freesia scent. It tantalizes my every sense.

Our mouths embrace. I’m losing myself, just as I did the other night, and I can’t stop it from happening. This is like no lust I’ve ever experienced. It is all-consuming the way her tongue licks at mine, greeting, teasing, inviting me in further. And so I go.

She kicks her school things to the floor, and I know this is happening.

I must have more of her.

My mouth pulls away, landing on the slight saltiness of her neck. The moan she lets out swells inside my ears and I am flipping her, cradled so perfectly by her legs, ready to own her. There’s hunger in her dark eyes as she feels me pressing on all the tender places where no other bloke has ever been. She’s gasping and making the sexiest little noises.

I’m surprised when Anna starts to pull my shirt up, but I quickly help, reaching over my head, grabbing it and yanking it off. I go for the top button on her shirt, and when she doesn’t stop me I hurry through them, desperate to see and feel as much of this girl as I can. Her shirt and undershirt are finally off in a flick of arms. I’m all but growling as my chest and stomach touch hers, hot and smooth, and our mouths meet once more. I want to savor every moment. She feels incredible underneath me, skin to skin.

The feel of her hands grasping at me—knowing she wants me as I want her—is incredible. I am going to take my time with her, and it’s going to take all night.

And then I remember with a pang of disappointment. “What time will Patti be calling?”

“Not for an hour,” she whispers.

Far too soon. “That simply is not going to be enough time.” I don’t want any distractions, but I’ll take what time I can get. I flip us again so she’s on top and I have better access to remove her clothing. I’m leaning partly against the pillows and headboard, and Anna sits across my lap. She takes my lead so perfectly on everything, letting me be in control. Trusting me and going with it.

I have to be careful on this next part because she freaked last time I went near her chest. I will not go for the grab. I concentrate on her shoulders, kissing the smooth skin, and working her bra straps down. Going slow is driving me mad. I want her naked ten minutes ago. I can’t remember the last time I’ve gone this long or wanted something more.

I feel for the back of her strap but then decide to leave her bra on. As much as I want her completely naked, I’ve known since the night we met that she’s self-conscious of her chest size. Completely ridiculous, of course. I’ll leave that discovery for later.

When Anna scoots down on me and curls her hips against mine, I go momentarily blind with lust. My control is slipping much faster than normal. Time to meet the arse I’ve been desperately dreaming about.

One hand goes around her back and I lift my hips, turning us over so she’s lying on her back again. I move down, kissing a path along her breastbone, down to the soft mound at the top of her bra. As if begging me not to stop, Anna’s hands push into my hair.

Ah, God, this is unbelievable. At every moment I keep expecting her to stop me, but she never does. I move down her stomach to her gorgeous belly button, kissing and tasting every inch. When I get to her shorts I look up and her eyes are shut. Her whole body is fluid, squirming and ready for me.

Take her.

But . . .

Does she know what she’s doing? She mightn’t be thinking clearly. . . .

Doesn’t matter.

My body is screaming. I’m so close. This is what I’ve wanted. I won’t stop now.

With one flick, the button of her shorts is undone. My hands slide under her back and she arches for me. I love the responsiveness of her body, so completely in tune with mine. I lick the skin I’ve just exposed and she sucks in a massive breath.

This is nothing, I want to tell her. Wait until you feel what’s next.

She has no idea what she’s in for, and though it’s all good things in my mind, I feel a sudden unwelcome pang of guilt just as I’m about to unzip her shorts. My defenses go up. I’ve no reason to feel guilty. I warned her. She knows who I am and what I’m after. So why do I feel the need to warn her again?

“My parents were soul mates in heaven,” she’d told me. She’d been created in love by an angel and a demon who were separated because of others’ lies and deceit. She is nothing like me. She gives all her money away to needy strangers, and has a heart for the downtrodden.

Who cares? Keep going, you bloody fool, before she changes her mind!

I never let myself think of how the girl will feel afterward while I’m working, but this doesn’t feel like a job. I don’t want it to be a job. I shove my inner work voice aside and give her one last warning.

“Now would be the time to stop me, luv. You’re about to be undressed, and trust me when I say it will be too late after that.”

She’s going to stop me now. I know it, and I feel a sense of relief. I kiss her stomach one last time while I can, so grateful to be this close to her for these fleeting moments.

And then she says in a sultry voice, “No, Kai. Don’t stop.”

I freeze. She’s giving permission.

Don’t stop.

I have to kiss the mouth that said those words. When I do, our bodies move together, and she’s clinging to me, rocking me from the inside out. And though there’s clothing between us, it’s the most sensual and satisfying thing I’ve ever experienced.

My chest swells with an abundance of that feeling only Anna can give me. It overpowers the beast inside me with its luminescence. A single thought echoes through my mind: it’s time to stop. I don’t even understand why. Clearly, Anna is ready. She has told me as much, and her body is screaming it, rubbing against me in a way that makes me want to explode.

It’s time to stop.

“We . . . ,” I mumble. “Baby, I . . . we have to . . .” Stop.

I am baffled by this thought. It’s as if it’s coming from a greater power outside me. With sudden clarity I know Anna will regret this spontaneous decision to sleep with me, for reasons I can’t begin to understand, but I know. Something will not be right if we do this. The sureness of it is enough to scare the shite out of me.

I shake my head. My entire body goes stiff and I try to lift myself, but Anna has ahold of me, and she’s whimpering for more like a needy little vixen.

I have to momentarily close my eyes against the sight of her.

“We can’t,” I whisper.

“Kai?” The sound of the surprise and hurt in her voice kills me. I want to give her what she wants—what we both want.

It’s time to stop.

I want so badly to ignore this stupid fucking feeling of intuition, or whatever the hell it is, and take this girl with every ounce of strength in my body, but I don’t dare. I’ve never had a feeling this strong and clear. When I attempt to move off her, she tightens her hold around my waist. Her back arches underneath me again, lifting her hips to mine in the most agonizing way. I am about to lose all control.

“Damn it, Ann, please! Don’t. Move.”

Our gazes collide, and we’re both panting with unsated need. She’s gorgeous and so bloody hot for me that I have to look away.

And move. Quickly. I get my arse off the bed, and immediately that overpowering sense of intuition leaves me, and it’s just me and the beast. Scorching pain racks me from thigh to stomach, and my head gives a giant throb. I grab my hair, pacing—I can’t stay still. What have I done to myself? It feels as if I might die. I try to shake away the excruciating headache that makes me barely able to open my eyes, but it’s no use.

“You don’t want me.” Anna’s small voice shoots straight through my ears and down to my core, making me groan with animalistic longing. Her eyes water and she looks lost.

Can she not see how I want to ravish her like the devil I am? I like to think of the beast and myself as separate entities, but I’m fooling myself. We are one and the same. Right now I want to give in to my darkest urges, throwing caution and gentleness aside, shredding every scrap of cloth between us, and overpowering her body with mine to see how loud her sweet voice can get.

“Don’t do that,” I struggle to say. “That was the single most difficult thing I’ve done in my entire life.”

I stand, trying to clear my head.

“I don’t understand, then,” she whispers.

No, no she doesn’t. And neither do I.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, okay? And don’t think for a second I don’t want you—” I push my knuckles against my pounding forehead. “But it shouldn’t be like this.”

“Like what?” she asks.

Everything is wrong. I don’t even know how to explain it. I’m so bloody frustrated. Why is she asking me these questions? Is she blind to the kind of person she is, and the kind I am? None of this is good enough for her.

“Uncommitted,” I say. “In a hotel room.”

“Then commit.” Her voice is resolute. As if it’s that simple.

I throw my arms out, at a loss. “I can’t!” That is not my life, and will never be. She can try to slum it with me all she wants, and fool herself into thinking it’s okay, but I know the difference between us. Eventually, she will, as well.

“I’m not taking your virginity,” I tell her. “You would regret it.”

I lean my forehead against the wall, but the pain in my gut is too powerful to stand. I turn and slide to the floor, elbows on my knees, face in my hands. My abdomen contracts in anger as I force myself to breathe.