Shit. What am I doing?
I’m furious with myself. As I fight an internal battle, my thrusts come harder and faster. Almost punishingly. Agitated beyond all reason, I release a frustrated growl and pant heavily with exertion. I’m balls-deep in the one woman on the planet who obliterates me. Fucking hell. Our skins slap together and a sheen of sweat covers us, aiding me into driving deeper inside her. She screams my name out as an orgasm rips through her body.
It should have taken me with her, but my mind’s preoccupied with the repercussions of what we are doing. I withdraw my still exceptionally hard cock from her body, leap up off the sofa, and pace like a caged animal.
Her eyes become erratic, and confusion takes over her features. “What’s the matter? What are you doing?” she asks as she bolts up, gathering things to cover her luscious body.
I can’t help but stare, and I’m fighting myself because I know I shouldn’t.
“I don’t fucking know,” I yell at her. “That’s the fucking point.”
“You don’t get to shout at me. You”—she pokes a finger in my chest—“started that, not me.”
“Don’t you think I know that?” I pull at my non-existent hair, instead digging nails into my scalp. “Fuck,” I roar.
I’m pacing stark naked, with a raging hard-on, which slaps against me with every step. I laugh ironically at the absurdity of it all.
“What the hell is wrong?” she demands.
“You. You’re what’s fucking wrong, everything about you, don’t you get it? You. Are. Wrong.” My words are low as I try to rein in my self-disgust.
She looks like I’ve slapped her. She doesn’t get it. She doesn’t understand. It doesn’t help I can’t get the right words out. Tears begin to trail down her cheeks, and my heart lurches in my chest. She tries to get dressed at warp speed, but fails, all the time swiping tears from her cheeks with the back of her hand.
“You don’t get to put your dick in me then tell me I’m wrong. I didn’t ask for that.”
I shake my head. “You don’t understand.”
“I don’t understand? You don’t explain. You just keep telling me I’m wrong.” She draws in a shuddery breath. “Is it because of Mac?”
The question squeezes my heart with such savagery it almost stops, and it enrages me further. It’s a question which should never have entered her head, or left her lips.
“Fuck no,” I spit out. I never want her to think that. Ever. “I can’t fucking resist you. I never could. That’s always been my problem.”
“Well, for someone who can’t resist me, you’re doing a bloody good job of it right now.”
Her temper flares, and it’s sexy as hell. I want to jump her bones, but that’s what got me into this shit in the first place.
“What do you want from me, Lizzie? What do you want me to say?” I stop pacing and point down to my still very erect cock and serious case of blue balls. “Here’s the living proof.”
“All I want right now is for you to tell me the truth, because all that ‘living proof’ tells me is you don’t want me enough. It’s still bloody hard, you’re naked, and we aren’t having sex. What’s wrong with me?” she cries.
“You’re. Not. Fucking. Mine!” I virtually yell at her. Turning away, I throw my head back and stare at the ceiling, my hands resting on my hips.
And I drag the words, which have eaten at me for years, out of the depths of my soul.
“You’ve never been mine.”
HER WARM AND tender hand brushes over my back, sending shockwaves to my already painfully swollen cock.
“Don’t.” I spit out the word, withdrawing away from her. “Just… don’t.” The words die on my lips as pain grips at my chest.
I’m a walking mass of contradictions. My body’s begging for release, for me to thrust back inside her, and finish what I started… what she started. But my mind’s racing with everything she’s told me and the fact that she’s not fucking mine. Never been mine. Fuck. I only want a taste of her, to feel her soften beneath me, to hear those breathy gasps that leave her body when my hands roam over her.
No fucking willpower, you stupid bastard.
All I’ve done is create a mess of epic proportions. She didn’t need that; she didn’t need me taking from her. She’s already had far too much taken from her. No woman should have to go through what she has. The grip on my heart tightens a fraction more.
At least that kills the hard-on I was rocking. Shame it didn’t stop it from rising to the occasion in the first fucking place.
Lizzie’s gentle but tortured laugh breaks through my thoughts. I give up the fight and turn to look at her. The pain etched on her face almost brings me to my knees.
“I’m more yours than you could ever realise, Noah.” Her stormy eyes scan my face as she continues. “Half of me has always been here with you.”
My heart races with her words, but there’s hesitation in her tone and uncertainty in her features. Her shoulders stiffen, but her eyes light up, causing the pounding in my chest to stop mid beat.
She takes a deep breath. “I’ve loved you for so long, but there’s something I need to tell you.” Her gaze flicks to the floor before returning to rest on my face, looking me square in the eye. “There’s someone else in my life now, he’s…”
No, no, no, no, no. Fuck no!
“Stop. I don’t want to fucking hear it.” Furious, I raise my palm to her to cut her off.
I do a quick scan for my clothes. Picking them up, I shrug them on violently. I feel like I’m having déjà vu. My head is a mass of screaming obscenities and… Alex. Fuck. Why didn’t I remember that bastard before I stuck my cock in her?
“Noah, let me explain,” her soft voice pleads with me, trying to continue, to make me listen. “He’s…”
Pain ricochets through every part of my body. “I. Don’t. Want. To. Fucking. Hear. It.” I can’t take it, not again. The last remaining burnt and crusted parts of my heart disintegrate to dust.
Never enough.
I need to get out. Get away from the fucking woman that has tormented me for years.
“Noah!” Her voice cracks with something, probably fucking guilt.
I turn to face her for a fraction of a second. My eyes hopefully show her they’re as black as my soul. In that moment, I realise that I let her break me.
Never fucking mine.
I push out the last few words. “Show yourself out.” Turning around, I walk away, slamming the door shut behind me.
Striding out into the workshop, I notice Spud trying to look busy by shifting tools around. Fuck. When did he come back from his test drive? Every muscle in my body is taut with anger, my fists clenched. He raises his chin to me in greeting, and tension radiates off him. I glance over my shoulder at the back room door.
Great, he fucking heard me get shafted again.
“You going to Macy’s?”
It’s a small question from Spud, which implies so much. Unable to speak, I nod in acknowledgement. Patting my pockets to check for my key and wallet, I head out of the open roller shutters and to the two places I can lose myself. My bike, and my constant companion—the bottom of a bottle.
She loves someone else.
My world explodes for the second time. How do I move past this fucking nightmare? All this time I’ve been hanging on to the tiny sliver of hope that maybe she loved me, but she loves someone else. It’s got to be that Alex fucker.