“Again, not my problem. The girls I’ve been with always know the score up front. It’s one of the conditions to me laying hands on them. If I make it clear from the beginning that it’s nothing more than fucking, then they should do us both a favor and heed the warning instead of trying to make it into something it’ll never be.”
That little speech makes me want to vomit.
Did I know the score up front?
His words leave me cringing with a need to fold in on myself. Maybe that’s all I ever was. Another stupid female to add to an already lengthy list.
“Is that all it was between us?” It takes effort to swallow down my rising nausea. “Just sex?” I don’t understand why I’m so intent on inflicting more damage on to myself. It’s not like it matters.
And yet, for some inexplicable reason, it does. More than I want to admit.
His fingers tighten around the steering wheel as we careen down the country road, picking up speed. The engine revs and the scenery flies by the passenger side window in a blur of gold and green. “Is that what you think, Summer?”
I shrug and remain silent.
“You know damn well it wasn’t,” he bites out, anger vibrating throughout his tone.
Do I?
How am I supposed to know that?
Red barns dot the landscape along with small herds of black and white spotted cows. There’s something peaceful about the vast openness and yet it does nothing to settle the turbulent emotions attempting to break loose.
“You were never just a fuck. It always meant more,” he admits in halting tones.
I glance at him, startled by the admission. Something reluctantly loosens in my chest before thawing. The need to guard myself against him thrums through me. Kingsley is someone who has the power to inflict untold amounts of damage. Kind of like Godzilla wrecking havoc on a small Japanese fishing village. I’m nowhere near ready to allow that to happen.
When we zoom past the turnoff for our subdivision, panic fills me. “Where are we going?”
“You’ll see.”
Being trapped alone with Kingsley is a double-edged sword. How is it possible to love and hate something in equal measure at the same time?
Ten minutes later, he swings into the gravel parking lot of the Dairy Barn, an ice cream stand in the middle of Hawthorne. Memories of the first time we came here rush through me. As promising as the outing had begun, it had ended in disaster. I’m not looking for a repeat performance.
He cuts the engine before shifting his body toward mine. My breath stalls when he lifts a hand to cup the side of my face. Instead of ducking away, I sit rooted to the leather, unable to escape the contact. His touch shouldn’t feel so good. And it certainly shouldn’t create a sense of rightness in me. If I were smart, I would knock his hand away. Instead, I close my eyes and relax into his palm as he cradles my cheek. If I didn’t understand it before, I do now. I’m a glutton for punishment with masochistic tendencies.
“You realize we’re going to have to talk about this, right? I won’t let you push me away.”
Deep down, I’ve always known that. It’s why I didn’t want to tell him until I had a better handle on the situation.
My eyelashes flutter open, only to find his gaze piercing mine. “I know.”
He draws closer, the scent of his aftershave scrambling my senses. All I want to do is strain toward him. How am I supposed to fight not only him, but myself as well?
“Have you given it anymore thought?”
My teeth sink into my lower lip as I shake my head and glance away. “I need time.”
Gentle fingers guide my face back to his. There is no running or hiding from him. He won’t allow it. “Do I get a say in the matter?”
“Do you really want one?” I fire back, already knowing what the answer will be.
Anger flashes across his face as tension crackles in the air between us. “How can you ask that?”
“How can I not? You’ve made your feelings crystal clear.” There’s a beat of silence before I add, “You hate me.”
The fury filling his voice drains away. “That’s not true,” he mumbles as his hand falls from my face, coming to rest on his thigh. “I know things have been rough between us—”
Ha!
A gurgle of laughter explodes from my lips. Is he joking? “That’s the understatement of the decade. Maybe even the century.”
He releases a measured breath before conceding, “You’re right, okay? But this is a decision we should make together. It doesn’t just affect you, it involves me, too.”
I chew my lower lip and stare sightlessly out the windshield. As much as I hate to admit it, he’s not wrong. This baby is his as much as it’s mine. Maybe he should have equal say in the matter.