Chapter 24
Hazel
”Are you ready?”Archer asks.
I move my head from one side to the other on the pillow and hum, unable to string a sentence together. He picks me up from the bed and carries me to his impressive bathroom, a mix of all-white marble and polished accents and finishes. He”s run a bath for me and places me in the luxurious freestanding tub. The warm water welcomes me, and I stretch out my limbs, resting my head on the bath pillow. Hmmm. A girl could get used to this. ”What”s next? You”ll feed me grapes?”
He grabs a small step stool and sits next to me, kissing my forehead. ”If that”s what you want.”
I chuckle. ”You”re not joining me?”
This tub could fit both of us, even though he’s massive. Though being that close to him could be dangerous… and I’m still experiencing some delicious zings of achiness in my ass. The type of awareness that may stay with me for a while… though as memories flood my mind, I have to admit… exhaustion aside, I loved what we shared. I’ve never felt so close, so intimate with anyone like that.
”This is about you,” he says. ”Besides, I don”t want to be naked with you in a small space. You need some rest.”
I smile. ”You say that now.” When I was still recovering from our first anal experience, he cleaned me up, which only re-ignited my lust, and we had sex again. And now I feel like I”ve been hit by a truck.
”Remember when you said ten inches could finish you off? Maybe you were right.”
I look up at the ceiling, trying to understand what he means. My mind is too hazy, in a mix of extreme post-sexual fatigue, satisfaction, and body aches. Though the warm water helps. I sense something else in the tub—Epsom salt? I guess the upside of dating a fuckboy is that he knows all the secrets.
”When you were wearing high heels, remember? I asked you if they were ten inches, and you said they were four, but ten inches would finish you off.”
I blink a couple of times, processing his explanation. ”Oh, that”s right.”
He touches my neck. ”Relax, baby.” He kneads my neck, and I close my eyes. For several minutes, he massages my shoulders and neck. I yawn. His touch has the right amount of strength while being gentle and not sexual. He”s honestly making me feel better and more relaxed.
I hum again, and my muscles are a lot looser than before. ”Are you the ass after-care specialist?”
He chuckles. ”Am I doing a good job?”
”Yes.” A thread of jealousy works its way through me. I shouldn”t wonder, but it”s hard not to—how many women have experienced his generous expertise? The touch of his hands before, during, or after sex?
Too many.
He has a past, I know—hell, I know more than I should.
It”s not fair to bring it up. But how can I bottle up this anxiety creeping up inside me?
”What is it?” he asks, outlining the area between my brows, where I assume I just frowned. ”What”s worrying you?”
I open my eyes and clear my throat. Embarrassment washes over me. I bet Allegra never had this type of problem. ”It”s silly.”
”Tell me.”
I roll my eyes, mad at myself. ”It”s idiotic.”
He tips up my chin. ”Tell me.”
Why does he have to be so awesome right now? He could be a dick, and I wouldn’t have to say anything. That’s what would be easier, isn’t it? A small voice inside me says. If he were a jerk. Because losing a jerk is easy… but losing a good, caring man is a different story. ”You”re doing great right now. And I wonder how great you were to all those other women… and how much longer you”ll be great to me.”
He flashes me an apologetic smile. ”I can”t change my past, Hazel. I can guarantee you that I’ve never cared for anyone the way I care for you—and this erases a lot of my previous experiences because those were different. What we have is new for me.”
I fidget, playing with the water under the surface for a bit. I move my fingers, flexing and relaxing them. Did I hear him correctly? He cares for me. My stomach flutters. Maybe it’s time I confessed, too. ”It”s new for me, too. I have a small confession… I kind of hated you for about a year.”
He leans closer and kisses my cheek. ”I know.”
I frown. ”You know?” Was he better at picking up social cues than I assumed? My curiosity is piqued.
”I was as miserable as the devil,” he says dramatically.
Miserable. Devil.
Those words echo in my ears, and a memory flashes in my brain.
An entry from my diary.
Sexy as hell and miserable like the devil.
I scoot to the opposite end of the tub so he can no longer touch me. I need all my wits right now. The ten inches dick joke. And now this. My throat thickens, and a chilly sensation spills into my stomach. ”You read my journal?” I ask, but I mean it as a statement. I’m having a hard time understanding everything.
His face sobers, and that”s all the answer I need. I cross my legs and stare at him.
Chills run through me like the water is suddenly icy cold. He”s read my diary. For how long? Why? And why didn”t he tell me about it?
”Hazel…”
”When?”
The pulse in his neck jumps. ”Weeks ago… before we hooked up.”
I reach for the towel rack before he can grab a fluffy towel and wrap it around me. Leaving the tub, I grab another towel for my hair. ”Why didn”t you tell me? You had a long ass time to tell me.” I towel dry my hair with harsh movements, trying to think straight. My movements still feel too slow, but I can”t fault intense lovemaking this time.
It”s deception.
He had access to a part of me I didn’t share with anyone, and he’s hidden it from me. For weeks. How long would it be until he told me the truth, if ever? And why doesn”t he see it as a big deal? How can I trust him?
I return to the bedroom and sit on the edge of the bed.
Archer stands in front of me. He’s still wearing a towel wrapped around his hips, but this time, I make a point not to focus on his hot body. ”I didn”t know how to bring it up. I didn”t want to break your trust.”
”Break my trust by admitting you broke my trust?”
”Well, if we”re being sticklers here, you wrote shit about me while you were on the clock.”
Is that what this is about? Getting back at me? My heart rate slows down, my palms clammy. A nauseating sensation swirls inside me. ”Wow. How petty of you.”
He shakes his head, annoyed. ”I”m sorry, but Hazel, what I said isn”t a big deal.”
I suck in a breath. Am I exaggerating? I don’t know. I need five minutes away from him to think straight. But first, questions. ”So tell me something… Why did you kiss me? Did you see me as a woman before you read my diary?”
”Of course not.”
Of course not. Why would he? I”m not his type. If anything, I”m a fantasy.
”Look at it this way—without reading it, we would have never gotten together,” he says.
”Exactly.” A knot forms in my throat, my pulse skittering. ”We shouldn”t have gotten together. We wouldn’t have if it weren’t for the journal.” I bend and scoop up my clothing from the floor, dressing clumsily.
”Hazel, are you nuts?” he asks, following me around.
I wave him off, gesturing at the space between us. ”I need some time to think.”
”Listen, the journal isn”t a big deal.”
It shouldn”t be, but why can”t he hear his own words? He wouldn”t have been interested in me without it. I can”t change how we met, how we got started… and I don”t want to have that niggle of insecurity in the back of my head. I already have enough insecurities as it is.
I want to believe him; I truly do. But how can I, when now it seems our time together is merely the fulfillment of a fantasy?
He lifts his hands in surrender, following me to the living room. ”Hazel, don”t leave. What kind of relationship do we have if you give up at the first obstacle?”
”What kind of relationship do we have if I bring it up to you and your best answer is that me being hurt isn”t a big deal?”