Mary couldn’t speak, couldn’t even think clearly as he started moving his fingers in a slow glide over her hipbone. He moved his fingers against her until he was touching her bare back, and a surge of disappointment went through her that he hadn’t followed through with what he said.
“Yeah,” he groaned. “You’d let me, baby. You’d let me do all the things we both want so damn badly.” A shiver wracked through her. “But you need to know who I am, Mary.” He pulled back once more, but he didn’t stare into her eyes and instead looked at her mouth. “You’re so much better than me, but the fact you want me makes this even harder.” He placed his hands on either side of her head again, creating a wall of thickly corded muscle caging her in, as he stared into her eyes. “I’m not some choir boy, Mary, and the rumors you’ve heard about me are more than likely true.”
His words were like ice water being thrown on her. She blinked as her arousal faded.
“I’m not a good man. I’m the bad boy, the one who does things that are questionable, and I’m fucking good at it. Know what I mean, baby?”
Yeah, she had a good idea what he meant. Girls. Fucking. All of that.
He was warning her, showing her what and who he was, laying all his cards out on the table. And as much as she hated he was going this route, that it was clear he thought she was better than him, that he was throwing it in her face that he was more than likely a manwhore as he drank and partied, she couldn’t help but soften toward him.
“Yeah,” he said low, deep. “You see who I am.” A moment of silence filled the space between them. “I don’t do flowers and candy. I don’t go home and meet the parents, and I sure as fuck don’t do relationships.” She felt his finger under her chin and realized she was once more focused on the ground. “Look at me.” His tone was gentle and she found herself obeying. “Do you understand me, Mary? Do you see I am so fucking wrong for you?”
She did, but her mouth had suddenly gone so dry she couldn’t form a word.
“If you want a night of hard fucking, that I can give you, Mary.” He let his gaze travel down her body, and she shivered from the coldness of it all. “I’m saying and doing this for you.”
She snorted and felt her anger rise so fast and hard she couldn’t breathe. “Bullshit,” she bit out. “You’re a coward, Alex Sheppard. You’re so fucking weak that you’d rather be an asshole and push me away than admit the truth.”
His jaw clenched but he stayed silent.
Her hands became fists at her sides and her anger rose. Her whole body shook from the force of his words, from the way he made her feel cheap, dirty, and not worthy. She couldn’t control herself, didn’t even try to stop herself from uncurling her hand and lifting it, from bringing her palm right across his cheek.
Alex’s head cocked to the right and she saw his jaw clench instantly.
For several long moments she did nothing but stand there staring at him, and when he turned back and looked down at her, she expected to see anger in his expression. But what covered his face was hard regret.
“Fuck you, Alex.”
Thankfully he moved a step back, giving her space so she could leave, and leave she did.
She made her way out of the club, snagging Darcy on the way, knowing tonight would be a long one as she told her friend everything. Because there was no way she could keep this shit inside. It would eat away at her like poison.
She was a damn fool, and when fire was being played with, the chance of getting burned was one-hundred-percent. And right now her whole fucking body was covered in flames, and it was no one’s fault but hers.
13
All Mary wanted to do was stop thinking about last night, about how she’d lay in bed for hours, staring at the ceiling in the dark, hating that Alex had been an asshole, but she knew why he’d done it.
She shouldn’t want anything to do with Alex after the shit he’d said—even if she knew he’d told her all of that to push her away. Because he thinks I’m too good for him. Because he thinks he’s not worthy. But even so, how he’d gone about pushing her away had been vile and disgusting, and not something she could just easily forgive.
Or maybe that was just hopeful thinking on her part because she felt more than just lust for Alex Sheppard. Yes, he was gorgeous and had this lethal edge to him that made the term “bad boy” take on a whole new light.