“What?” His fingertips rubbed against the skin across my belly.
“I think you’re finally moving on. I think you’re finally letting the past go. I think you’re finally starting to feel things again. It’s been slow progress, but you’ve changed a lot since we met. That never would have happened if you weren’t ready to move on.”
He raised an eyebrow. “What does that mean?”
“You spent time with me for a month before we finally had sex. You’ve never done that before.”
“So?”
“I think that means you’re changing. You say you can’t trust anyone again, but you obviously want to.”
Instead of taking my words as a compliment like they were meant to be, they seemed to irritate him. “What did I tell you about analyzing me?”
“I’m not analyzing you—”
“That’s exactly what you’re doing. You’re overthinking my behavior. The truth is, I don’t know why I gave up a month of my life to take you to dinner and spend time with you. I wanted to sleep with you, and maybe having to work for it made it better. Now I paid for another three months of your time because I haven’t stopped thinking about that cunt since the last time I had it. Maybe that means something…but maybe it doesn’t. Maybe you’re just the best sex I’ve ever had and that’s the end of the story.”
I didn’t want to believe that. After the three months passed, we would have been seeing each other for nearly five months. That was a long time to be with the same person, especially for someone like him. He could pretend I meant nothing to him, but eventually, he would realize that wasn’t the case. “I didn’t mean to anger you.”
“You didn’t. I’m just frustrated. I hate it when people tell me how I feel.”
“Sometimes it’s hard to be objective when we’re stuck in our own heads.”
“And sometimes we see things that aren’t really there.” He gave me a look full of accusation.
It turned quiet, our romantic moment zapped away by the tensions between us. It wasn’t my intention to stir up trouble. I just wanted Slate to realize he was letting go of his past, that he was moving forward with me without even noticing it.
Maybe he didn’t want to realize it.
The tension only heightened until it became unbearable.
Perhaps I’d sabotaged our night. “I think I’m going to go…” I turned away to crawl out of bed.
He snatched me and pulled me back. “No.”
“Really? I don’t feel welcome here.”
“Just because you piss me off doesn’t mean I want you to leave.” He hiked my leg back over his hip. “And when I piss you off, which I will, I hope you don’t take off either.”
“Depends on how pissed I am.”
“Well, I’ll try not to piss you off too much…even though I think you’re cute when you’re mad.”
“Then you haven’t seen me truly mad,” I threatened.
He rubbed his nose against mine. “How about we stop talking about the future? How about we save this conversation for three months from now?”
It seemed like every time I brought it up, I made the problem worse. “Alright.”
His fingers moved between my legs, and he rubbed my lips with his fingers. “Are you sore?”
“A bit.”
“It’ll get easier.”
“Is it normal to be sore for a while?” I always thought it would hurt the first time, but then after that, it would feel normal. The second time hurt as much as the first.
“I think you’re just really tight…and I’m larger than average.”
“Sounds like we’re a terrible match.”
He continued to rub my entrance, soothing the pain with his touch. “No…I think we’re perfect together.”
23
Slate
My brother was getting married in two days.
In two days, he would throw his life away—and half of his portion of the company.
I knew she would divorce him quickly, take half of his income so she could have the glamorous life she wanted—without a husband. If she killed him, she could have half the company entirely.
I knew she was a bitch—but she wasn’t that extreme.
The only reason I was going was because I had to. I wasn’t in the wedding, thankfully. That would have been even more awkward. It was just my brother and Simone and two friends, along with my mom and Simone’ parents. It would be on the beach in the Hamptons, a short drive away. Simone probably didn’t want a big wedding because she wouldn’t be married to him longer than a year, and that would just be bad publicity for her. Plus, it would be a waste of money. Maybe she would go big with her second marriage—with my brother’s money.
I stared at the paperwork on my desk, stuff I was bringing to the meeting I had in fifteen minutes. Coen and Simone would be there, wrapping things up before they went on a short honeymoon in the Bahamas.