Page 146 of The Art of Almost Losing It
“Me? What’s wrong with me?” I’m pacing in front of her. “I told you not to fuck with me. I told you.”
I can see my reflection in the window. I know I look crazy. But I have every right to be.
“You fucking lied to me, Dani.”
“No, I didn’t—”
I knock back the rest of the drink then hurl the glass into the wall. She screams, her hands over her ears.
“Youfucking liedto me.”
“I didn’t lie about anything,” she protests.
“Yeah?”
She cringes as I raise my arm.
“Then why the fuck does Kraig have your panties?”
29
DANI
My stomach sinks.
“He doesn’t,” I whimper. Then I swallow and force myself to meet Graham’s gaze.
There’s a weird energy, something threatening in the slant of his shoulders, the way his head tilts, the way those green eyes aren’t quite focused on me.
“You wanted him to have them. You like the thought of him jacking off on your panties.”
“Of course not. I sent you the video, remember?”
Stay calm, stay calm.
“Kraig must have stolen them. They were all wet and uncomfortable,” I whimper. “You don’t know what you do to me. What thinking about you touching me does to me.”
I just have to stay rational, talk him off the ledge.
“Liar,” he snarls.
I try to stay calm and steady my breath. Except it’s not working.
“Fucking lying bitch.” He’s not calming down. “You would have told me if he stole them.”
He’s advancing on me. “You knew he had them. You wanted him to have them.”
I scurry backward, trip over my shoes, and crash against the wall.
“You wanted to spread your legs for him, let him fuck that little virgin pussy when you know it belongs to me.”
He carefully puts one hand on the wall on either side of my face.
He doesn’t touch me.
But I want him to.
“I thought you didn’t want me.” I can’t keep the tremble out of my voice.
