“You want to fuck me instead.”
“Chere.”
“Why did you leave?” I asked, ripping the crusts off my toast. “You haven’t answered me.”
“I left because you decided to stop escorting. I wanted to support your decision.”
“You disappeared because I decided to go to school? I told you I would have kept seeing you!”
“I know you would have kept seeing me.”
He took a drink of water. I crossed my arms over my chest.
“Then why?”
“Why what?”
“Why to everything. Why wouldn’t you tell me your name? Why did you give me this apartment, then take off? We could have had a relationship, even while I was in school.”
“Not the kind of relationship I wanted.”
“And what kind of relationship did you want?” I scoffed. “Considering how easily you left me?”
“You don’t want to know.”
His low, taut words were accompanied by a jeopardous stare. I’d forgotten what it was like to be at the mercy of his pale blue gaze.
“Stop,” I said.
“Stop what?”
“Stop being that way. Stop trying to fuck with me and scare me. I’m never letting that happen again. I don’t want this weirdo shit between us. I’m different now.”
He laughed, and it wasn’t a nice laugh. “You weren’t different last night.”
I stood, snatching up my plate and silverware with a clatter. “Last night is over. I regret it now. It was a mistake.”
“Last night was fucking magical, and you know it.” His sharp retort jolted me, made me pause on the way to the kitchen, then flee like a coward. He followed me, grabbed the plate out of my hand and tossed it on the counter with a bang. He stood against me. Too close. You’re too close. He stood so I couldn’t move, pinning me against the cabinets.
“Admit it,” he said. “It was magical.”
“It wasn’t magical. It was the opposite of magical. It was desperate and impulsive and I regret it today.”
His lips curled. His nostrils flared. “Get off me,” I said through my teeth.
“You’re not the one in charge here.”
“This is my apartment!”
“This is my apartment.” He pointed to the table. “Mine.” He slapped a palm against the counter, rattling the dishes. “Mine.” He swung an arm toward the living area. “This is my apartment, you ungrateful little bitch.”
“You gave it to me. It’s my apartment now. I signed the papers your lawyers sent.”
“Did you read them first? Did you hire someone to look over them?” He smiled, a slow sadistic smile. “Do you really think I would have signed it over to you completely without some means of getting it back?”
I didn’t know if he was fucking with me again. My body hurt and my brain hurt. I turned away and he put his hands on either side of me, daring me to move. I didn’t.
“Look at me,” he ordered.
After a moment of mulish resistance, I lifted my chin to meet his gaze. I heard his fingers tap on the counter beside me. Tap, tap, tap. “What do you think it would be like, Chere, to be in a relationship with me?”
I didn’t answer. I couldn’t answer. I didn’t want to think about it.
“Consuming?” he suggested. “Difficult? Hurtful? Ultimately heart-breaking?”
“Yes,” I said in a rasp. “All those things.”
“And you wanted that? You wanted me to stay and give you that, when you were taking all those steps to make your life better?”
“I don’t know.”
I looked away from his intense line of questioning, only to have my chin dragged back.
“I left you as a kindness,” he said, holding my face between his fingers. “I know you’re ungrateful for everything I’ve ever done for you, but you should at least be grateful for that. I left you so you could go to school and get your degree and start your new life where you would be happy.”
I wet my lips, which had gone as dry as my throat. “But now you’re back.”
“I came back to stop you from making a mistake,” he said quietly. “But a relationship with me would also be a mistake.”
“So go,” I said, losing patience with his obscure threats. “Leave me alone. I don’t want to make any more mistakes.”
“I won’t let you make mistakes. But I still think I’ll need to fuck you every once in a while. I wish it wasn’t that way. Jesus, I’ve tried to convince myself—” His features twisted and rearranged themselves, a fleeting show of emotion. “I’ve tried to stay away, but now that I’ve had you, I’m going to need more. I’m going to need to fuck you a few times a week at least.”
His calm, entitled proclamation momentarily befuddled me. He’d just finished telling me that he wouldn’t have a relationship with me, that I shouldn’t want a relationship with him, but he’d help himself to my body whenever he pleased? It was fucking insulting. Fucking ridiculous.
“Fuck you,” I said, pushing him away.