Page 26 of Hold You Close
“Why should I?”
Exhaling loudly, he tries again. “I need you. They need you.”
I need him to say it. It’s stupid and doesn’t change anything between us, but it has to be because I’m worth something more.
“Are you asking me for help because you need a babysitter while you’re out at the club?”
Please, say no. Please tell me it’s because you care, even just a little for me.
He shrugs. “Partly.”
I try to shut the door in his face but he stops it with the heel of his hand. Instead of Neanderthalling his way into the house, he just stands there.
“I can’t do this with you,” I admit. “I can’t. You want just one thing, and screw anyone else’s needs in the meantime.”
“You think I want this . . . that I’m enjoying myself having to ask you for help now?”
“I don’t know what you want, I don’t think you know what you want!”
He runs his hand over his face. “Well, excuse me! But I wasn’t the one pushing your restraint right there.” He points to the fridge. “That was all you, sweetheart. You’re just as guilty for what happened. I know you like me to be the bad guy, but fuck, London. You initiated it this time. So don’t play your ‘I’m so perfect and Ian is the devil’ shit on me.” His voice rises as he mimics me.
Asshole.
“Fuck off.”
He’s right, though. It was me this time. I wanted . . . no, I needed him. I needed to feel something—anything—to know that it was me he wanted and not some bullshit excuse about keeping me quiet. I need to know why I still feel something for him.
And if I’m honest, it’s the most alive I’ve felt in a long time. Ian is the gasoline and I’m the match—when we connect, we could start a forest fire.
“Right, fuck off,” Ian scoffs. “I kiss you and you slap me. You push me to do it again so you can what? Get answers to something that happened a million years ago?”
He doesn’t get it. I was doing just fine before he kissed me today. For decades, I’ve been able to go without a single touch from him and be just fine. Then the moment in the office happened and I’ve lost my ever-loving mind.
“You confused me with that kiss. I’m so tired of you using me, confusing me, and then brushing me off like I don’t matter!”
The air between us crackles. “I brush you off? Are you kidding me?”
I move closer toward him. “No, I’m not kidding you, Ian. I want to put this all behind us for once. So let’s have it out. Let’s get all the dirty laundry out in the open so I can move the hell on.”
“We’re not going down this road. Not today. Not ever. Fuck! How are you the only female on this planet that can make me this fucking crazy?” Ian yells the last part. “Why, when my entire life feels like it’s falling apart, am I standing here, wishing I could shut you up again with my mouth? Why, when I’m so far past the point of angry, all I want to do is . . .” He stops, and my breath hitches.
I wait for him to continue, both of us standing here, staring at each other. My heart races as I wait for the words to come from his lips. To tell me something real. Tell me I’m not alone.
But instead, Ian retreats, like always. He shakes his head with his eyes closed, and my heart breaks. “Don’t worry, this won’t happen again. We both know it was a mistake and I don’t need any more reasons for you to hate me. I think you’ve stockpiled enough already.”
“I don’t really hate you,” I admit.
His head jerks back and he closes his eyes. “What the hell is it about you? Why do we do this to each other?”
“I don’t know.” If he’s not going to admit his feelings, I damn sure won’t admit mine. “Whatever. You’ve already said it was a mistake.”
Or that I’m the mistake. Either one applies.
Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.
I release a heavy breath. “I’m tired of this.”
“Of what exactly?”
