Chapter Eight
I lost track of time as I sat alone in the bathroom, with no idea how long I stared at Kingston’s note. Crumpling it into a ball, I clutched it tightly in my fist and tried to control my reaction.
It wasn’t true.
Nothing but more lies. More games. More requests for trust with none given in return.
I came close to discarding it, dropping the note on the floor, or tossing it in the nearest trash can. Probably the latter. Just so he didn’t make a litterbug out of me, too.
But something told me I’d regret it if I did.
So, instead, I flattened out the scrap of paper and folded it carefully, tucking it into the fabric of my dress. The limited amount that would conceal it, at least. I stupidly chose the left side of my dress’s bodice.
And I pretended I didn’t notice it pressed against my masochistic heart.
Nothing was as it seems?
Sure, I’d like to believe that.
But how much faith could I give a guy I barely knew? One who lied to my face and asked me to trust him. All before showing me—Nothing. Showing me nothing while I learned exactly why I shouldn’t have trusted either of them at all.
Hold on a little longer…
Hold to what? Hold on for what?
Kingston had given me that veiled answer, at least.
For us.
What us ? There was no us . We never got started. All I had of Kingston was a brief kiss, a charm I hadn’t been able to put on my bracelet, and stolen moments where the phrase you’ll see replayed like a broken record.
See what ?
The message swirled in my brain like a whirlpool, and if I wasn’t careful, they’d suck me right back in just to drown me in regret. Again .
No. I refused to go there.
Fool me once. Shame on them, right?
I had no intention of being anyone’s fool twice. Not when I was so close to winning the first challenge I could almost taste it. After tonight, only four more days of temptation stood between me and the second half of The Quest.
Once I got to the end and got the money, I’d prove what I’d come back to prove, and I’d never have to see anyone at Camelot Court again.
That thought twisted my stomach into knots.
But luckily, when I walked back into the party, Landon’s sad and tortured face unknotted any conflicted feelings I had.
In fact, it clarified the emotion coursing through me.
Refining it into rage.
Sharpening it into a single word.
No.
No, he did not get to stare at me like that.
I’d had enough.
Marching straight toward him, I barely acknowledged what I was doing as I reached him. I didn’t think about it. I just grabbed his tie and kept going.
He let me drag him away from the party and into the hallway. I searched for a place to go, but I had no idea where the hell anything was on this side of the house. I glared at Landon, ready to give him a piece of my mind right there.
Eyes already locked on my face, he stared at me like…
It didn’t fucking matter.
I was too pissed off to admit the way his eyes tugged at my stupid, useless heart.
Before I laid into him in the hall, Landon pointed at a closed door, treading carefully.
I huffed at his unwanted assistance, but I yanked him toward the door, opening it and pushing him into the room. He went willingly, all too easily, but I felt better pretending I forced him in there.
Until the door slammed shut behind us.
As I fumbled around for a light switch, the darkness revealed my error in judgment.
Landon captured my wrist, ending my search for the light.
And with my body turned toward the door, I couldn’t see him. With him at my back, I didn’t have to face him. I could hide from what he’d done.
And he knew it.
He planted his hands on either side of me, holding my wrist in his grip and caging me in against the door.
All I could do was feel.
Even as he held his body an inch away from mine, I felt him everywhere . His scent overpowered me. That familiar mix of lavender and rosemary mixed with the mint of his breath.
It warmed my skin. It made me dizzy.
And I couldn’t fight it.
He buried his face in my hair and inhaled a ragged breath. My knees buckled.
With me pinned against the wall, his cock jutted into the dip in my spine. It strained for me as I bit my lip, pressing my hips back.
Reaching for him, too, before I could stop myself.
He slid his hand up to my splayed palm and laced his fingers with mine. My breath caught, and I yanked my hand free.
But he grabbed me before I could get away, his voice hoarse. “What do you say if you want me to stop?”
Ignoring him, I scratched and tried to pry his fingers off. He snagged my wrist. And I drove my hips back, intending to shove him off.
But he refused to let me go.
He spun me around to face him.
And while I couldn’t see it, I felt the weight of his stare.
He restrained my body with his hips, pinning me to the wall. Trapping my hands above my head. Pressing our bodies together as close as they could possibly be. Almost.
I panted, seething as I grappled against his hold.
But I had my safe words.
All I had to do was release them— tell him —if I wanted him to stop, and he’d let me go.
The words wouldn’t come.
How long he held me there, I didn’t know.
But he waited, completely still, as every quiet breath I released told him the truth.
Neither of us broke the silence.
Shifting his hips back far enough to slip his hand between our bodies, he dragged up the hem of my dress. A tremor ran through him the second he made contact with my skin. Fingers digging into my flesh, he slid his hand between my legs.
I snapped my thighs together, refusing to let him in easily. He forced my legs apart, a low growl rumbling in his throat.
And I held my breath until he finally touched me.
The ache I’d felt the past five days intensified, cresting before breaking apart, as he pushed my panties aside.
I cried out, releasing a soft sob of relief.
When he sank two fingers inside me, a deep, guttural moan echoed between us. My hips bucked against his hand, wanting him. Accepting that I was in too deep.
He pressed his forehead to mine, lips parting as he set a slow pace. Drawing out pleasure the way only he could.
My heart ached.
“You betrayed me.”
He bowed his head and slid his fingers deeper, reaching for a place inside me only he had touched. “I know.”
“You lied to me.”
Wrapping my leg around his waist, I opened my body for him. My walls clenched at the new angle, holding onto him as I refused to make him let me go.
Refused to let him go.
I rocked against him, my legs quivering and my whole body writhing as I rode his fingers to the edge. I needed this—needed him. Needed more .
“You took?—”
“I know,” he rasped, thrusting his hand faster. As if the need to make me come apart—to make me forget?—
He rubbed my clit with his thumb, loosening his grip on my wrists. Just enough that I could escape if I wanted.
But I was too far gone to fight it. Too far gone to pretend I wanted to get away. Because I’d fallen too hard to pretend this wasn’t exactly what I needed.
And he knew it.
When I didn’t try to escape his hold, his touch receded. I cried out, my back arching in protest.
Until I realized why he’d stopped.
He grappled with his belt, tugging it free.
“Use it.” I barely recognized my voice, telling him to do it, and he hesitated. I jerked my hands in his slackened grip.
He forced them back against the wall.
Cinching the belt around my wrists, he tightened it to the point of pain. A growl tore from his throat, and he dug his fingers in, panting hard.
“Tell me.”
I reveled in his lack of control. “Do it.”
But he didn’t move, and my chest constricted.
“Do it or let me fucking go.”
Quickly undoing his pants, he freed his cock and fisted it against my belly. Stroking hard. He yanked my dress up to my waist. Smearing pre-cum at the tip into my skin.
Like he was marking me as his.
With ragged breaths, he kicked my legs farther apart.
He notched his cock at my entrance, and we both groaned. The feel of him against me, pressing deep even through the barrier of my thong, it made me want to beg. Cross every line.
It made me insane—the way I wanted to let him take me over and over again.
I couldn’t hold onto why I shouldn’t.
But before I could even voice my doubts, he pulled away.
Breathing hard, he drove his fingers back inside me. His cock remained pressed between us. Taunting me. Tempting me to give in, whether he realized he was doing it or not, as he pursued my orgasm first.
Relentlessly, as always.
I lost myself in the climb toward climax.
Lost myself in the thought of having him—having more.
Until I remembered why I couldn’t.
“You didn’t choose me.”
He dropped his head to my shoulder as he trembled with restraint, plunging his fingers deeper. Bringing me to the edge.
My heart thundered in my chest.
“You lost me.”
He shook his head and thrust his hand harder, fingers curling exactly how he knew I needed them.
And I couldn’t stop it.
Not the pleasure he drew out of me or the words freed from my chest. Core pulling taut, my body tightened like a bowstring and adrenaline rushed through me.
So, I loosed an arrow.
“I’m not yours anymore.”
“No.” His voice broke. His forehead pressing hard against mine, fingers driving in as deep as he could go, he growled against my lips, “You’ll always be mine.”
That pushed me to the breaking point.
And sent me flying over it.
My back arched. A cry tore from my throat.
Stealing it from my lips, Landon claimed me with his mouth and tongue. As if trying to say things with that kiss he couldn’t put into words.
And I let him.
Pleasure radiated from my core, gripping my body in wave after wave of it. I bucked against him as it tore through me. Legs clinging to him, clutching him tightly, I sobbed as everything between us finally released.
And I shuddered when it came to an end.
He dropped his head against the door beside mine, his breath hot as he panted in my ear. His arms shook with tension. But he didn’t release my wrists.
“Tell me,” he demanded, but the harsher command gave way to a broken plea. “Tell me you’re still mine.”
My lips parted with quiet, gasping breaths.
His whole body begged for relief.
But I wouldn’t give it.
“I won’t belong to someone who can’t choose me.”
He tightened his grip, his jaw clenching. I lifted my chin and waited for him to say something. Anything that changed what he’d done. Anything to lend even the slightest bit of truth to the hope tucked against my heart.
He wouldn’t. Or couldn’t .
And to me, the end result was the same.
“I refuse to l—” My breath caught in my throat. “I refuse to want someone who has no faith in me.”
I pushed back against him.
Momentarily stunned by my admission, he let me go. He stumbled back in the dark, pulling up his pants as I yanked the belt off my wrists and threw it to the ground.
It clattered between us.
“You can take my pleasure. Pull it from my body because you know it can’t resist. But you can’t have anything else.”
Even though I still couldn’t see his face, I felt his pain.
He’d given it to me.
And only he could take it away.
As silence echoed between us, I tugged down the hem of my dress and grabbed the doorknob.
He didn’t say anything.
So, I gave him the only truth I had.
“You were never mine.” Lifting my chin, I pushed through as my voice trembled. “And I’m not yours. Not anymore.”
Then, I left him alone in the room.