Page 113 of Rough Hard Fierce (Chicago Underground 1-3)
He tensed even tighter.
“No, no,” I soothed. “It’s nothing bad.”
I waited until he’d leaned back into my hands again, urging me to continue.
“I don’t expect anything from you when I say this. It’s just that, after everything that’s happened, I feel like I should tell you.” I slipped my hands around his waist. “I love you.”
He bolted away so fast I almost fell over.
“Shit,” he said as he steadied me.
I tried not to be offended. And failed. “Shit? I mean, not that I expected you to say it back, but shit?”
He paced away from me to the other side of the bed. What was he scared of? His hard expression told me to leave it alone, that I’d never know, but I couldn’t.
“Are you that mad at me? I can’t even love you while you’re mad at me? Well, too bad, because I do. I love you, I love you, I love you—”
He turned and left the room.
Well. That could have gone better. It didn’t matter to me that he said it. I figured a girl who deserved Colin had to learn to read his actions, not his words, but even his actions hurt at this moment.
We were so close. We had everything right there, within our grasp, but he—what? He didn’t believe in it? He didn’t want it?
I wasn’t good enough.
No, dammit! I wouldn’t go down that path again. It wasn’t so much a path as a sinkhole. I’d fallen into the ice, or been pushed. I’d treaded water, stuck, as people gave me pitying looks. No one wanted to come close for fear they might fall in with me, except for Colin.
I was good enough. If he didn’t want me…well, I would be devastated. Even my newfound confidence couldn’t protect me from that. But as painful as that would be, I refused to let it define me.
That kind of confidence mumbo jumbo was easier said than done, though. I wanted him, loved him, and his rejection hit hard. I debated leaving him alone, letting him calm down, but it had been a week since the explosion, and we’d gotten no closer to getting over this. No closer to each other.
Down the stairs I went. I found Colin sitting on the couch.
I sat next to him. “Colin,” I said, in my best imitation-Colin voice. “I was hoping we could be together, you know, like a happy ever after, but this doesn’t bode well for my chances.”
It was, of course, a mimic of what he’d said to me that first night. It was also cheesy as hell, but I wanted to make him laugh, and also to show him that he’d been right. We belonged together, and he’d insisted on it until I finally believed. This was the reverse, and to my surprise it worked.
His lips cracked just slightly. Then they slowly, reluctantly widened into a smile.
I cheered inwardly. “Oh, you like that? I’ve got more where that came from.”
“Yeah?” he said, the grin—that sweet, sexy grin—still in place.
“No, that was a lie. Or a horrible attempt to talk dirty. I’m just happy I got you to smile.”
“Hey,” he said. “I’m not that bad.”
He ducked his head to hide his smile. I squirmed onto my belly so I could see it, like a puppy begging for attention.
“You are that bad,” I said up at him. “You’re a bad boy. That’s what I like about you.”
“Really?” he asked skeptically.
“No, not really.” My head rested on his lap. I turned to nuzzle my nose into his abs.
“So everything you’re saying right now—”
“Lies, all of it. I like your smile, though. That’s the truth.”
