Session 33

Chapter seventy three

"So you're really not gonna talk to me, for real, Cassius?" I asked, my voice laced with irritation.

He didn’t even pause the game. Just glanced at me, expression blank, and then turned back to the screen like I wasn’t standing there. Like I wasn’t right here.

That stung.

I clenched my fists, frustration boiling over. I wanted to punch his ass right in the fucking eye. Instead, without another word, I stomped up the stairs, my mind racing as I paced the floor of the guest bedroom. Every day, the same shit for two weeks. I tried to do what the therapist told me—let him get over it at his own pace, give him space, let him cool off—but I was at my breaking point.

I needed him to listen. Really listen. And if he wouldn’t listen to my words, I was going to do something drastic.

The doorbell rang, interrupting my thoughts. I heard Silas’s loud ass come in.

Without thinking too hard about it, I stripped out of my clothes. Everything. I caught my reflection in the mirror. My breath felt shaky, uneven, but I forced myself to stand tall. If this doesn’t get his attention, nothing will.

With a steadying breath—in, out—I coached myself before leaving the room. I walked downstairs. When I reached the living room, Cassius was still glued to the TV, one arm draped over the back of the couch like he didn’t have a care in the world.

Silas noticed me first, his eyes widening slightly, and then—of course—his mouth opened. “Damn, Angel,” he muttered, his tone a mix of shock and humor. “You got some pretty-ass titties.”

Cassius turned then, his head snapping in my direction. The moment his eyes landed on me, his entire body went still.

"Go," Cassius barked at Silas, his eyes still locked on me, his tone low and dangerous.

Silas shook his head, but he wore a smirk, standing with Ekon tucked against his chest. “Alright, alright. I’m going, but my son’s coming with me. Too much freaky shit going on in this house,” he said as he walked out the door, still muttering under his breath.

As soon as the door clicked shut, Cassius moved. He stood up and strode toward me so fast it made my breath catch. His hands wrapped around my throat, his touch firm but not tight.

His eyes raked over my body hard enough I could feel it, lingering on every curve, every inch of exposed skin. "I’d love to know what the fuck you think you’re doing."

"Making you listen," I shot back. “You want to ignore me? Fine. But you're gonna hear me out first.”

His jaw tightened, the muscles flexing under his skin as he closed the distance between us. His grip on my throat tightened just slightly, his eyes burning into mine. "Stripping down and making a fucking scene? In front of Silas? You like the little attention he gives you?"

“Fuck Silas and his attention. Are you going to listen?” I said, raising my chin. “Or are you just gonna keep lecturing me?”

He clenched his jaw again, his hands tightening before he finally let out a frustrated breath and took a step back, dragging a hand over his face. "Fine," he muttered. "Talk."

“You made up a story in your head, and it has you angry. You think I was trying to protect Solomon.” My voice was shaking, but I held his gaze. “You think I’m stupid enough to want him back after everything he did? Cassius, I didn’t tell you because I knew exactly what you’d do—you’d go out there, guns blazing, and get yourself thrown in jail, or worse. You think I want that?”

His expression twisted with anger and something else—hurt. "Do you know what that feels like? To know the woman you love thinks you’re incapable of protecting her? Do you have any idea what that does to a man?”

“Do you know what it feels like to watch you explode?” I shot back, my voice trembling. “You think I didn’t want to tell you? You think I didn’t want you to protect me? I was protecting you. Us. I do—but not at the cost of your life.”

He flinched, his hands clenching at his sides. But he still shook his head, scoffing. "Okay, fine. I would have done something stupid. But that ain’t our only problem. Every day I sit here, trying to be better, trying to get you back. And you keep me at arm's length, making me feel like I’m some fucking monster. I hurt you, I get it. But I spent the last year fixing myself so I can be the man you deserve. The man who doesn’t fuck everything up. But it’s hard as hell, and I can’t keep hurting myself trying to be with you if you don’t want me.”

I blinked, his words hitting me somewhere deep, somewhere tender. I didn’t want him hurting over me, not anymore. “I never said I didn’t want you,” I whispered, the words slipping out before I could stop them.

"Then why the hell do you keep pushing me away? Why do you keep acting like I’m the fucking enemy still?"

"Because you make everything about you," I snapped. My chest was tight, my emotions felt dangerous. "That makes me want to scream sometimes, Cassius. That’s what fucked us up the first time. You thinking about your trauma. How you feel. But I don’t want to fight you anymore. I just… I want to leave that shit in the past, and you continuing to be selfish makes it impossible. I didn’t want to lose you, Cassius. I..."

His gaze softened just a fraction. "What are you trying to tell me, Angel?"

I met his gaze, my heart racing. "I still love you, Cassius. I just don’t think we’re going to make it." My voice cracked as the words left my mouth.

His reaction wasn’t one I expected. My back hit the wall, and my heart skipped in my chest. He trapped my hands above my head. Every muscle in his body was tensed, and I couldn’t move an inch. For a moment, I was scared, but I recovered quickly.

“Don’t say that shit if you don’t mean it.” His glare bore into me.

“I mean it,” I said, breathless. His body pressed harder against mine, and I could feel every inch of him.

“I’m going to hold you to it,” he said. I was caught off guard when I felt his dick pushing against my pussyhole, then he thrust into me roughly, no prelude, no warning. I liked it—liked how much my body remembered him.

The shock of it made my back arch and my inside stretch to take him, a small, broken sound tumbled from my lips. His jaw tightened, a muscle in his cheek ticking as he bottomed out. “Damn, I’ve been dreaming about this pussy since you took it back. Ain’t no way I’m letting it go again.” His hand slid up my leg, hooking it around his waist, opening me wider, deeper. His body pinned me to the wall. He moved like he was angry, like he was making a point.

I didn’t say anything—I couldn’t. My brain short-circuited the moment he started moving. “Angel,” he rasped, his voice thick and erratic as he buried his face in the curve of my shoulder. His lips found my skin, his teeth grazing as his hand slipped between us, his fingers finding my clit, circling it like he already knew exactly how to ruin me.

I moaned, my nails digging into his back, my body arching into his touch, chasing the way his fingers and dick worked together, pulling me apart. “Cassius,” I gasped. “Angel,” he rasped again, burying his face in my neck as his hips jerked, driving deeper.

I crashed into my orgasm head-on. I heard him curse as he followed, his hips jerking, his breath ragged. He buried himself deep one last time. His forehead dropped to mine, our breaths mingling.

Neither of us spoke for a moment. When he finally did, he murmured, “Promise me something,” his lips brushing my forehead.

“What?”

“No more stripping in front of Silas. He’s damn near already in love with you.”

I snorted, rolling my eyes despite the way my legs were still shaking. “Maybe if you stop ignoring me like a damn child.”

His mouth curved into a grin, his teeth grazing my bottom lip as he kissed the corner of my mouth. “Maybe.”

We stayed there for a moment longer, tangled. And even though I knew we weren’t fixed, even though I knew we weren’t close to being okay, for the first time in a long time, it felt like we weren’t breaking anymore.