Chapter 9 #4
“What happened?” I asked, carding my fingers through the long hair at the top of his head until it was arranged just the way he liked.
A hank of hair had tumbled over his wounded eyebrow and hung in front of his eye, so I brushed it aside with my fingertips.
Oddly enough, he let me do it. He allowed me to touch him without objection.
I stroked the shorter hair near his ears while Neil watched me gravely, accepting every one of my touches.
“How long are you here?” he asked, licking his lower lip. My eyes tracked the motion of his tongue—it was sexy as hell. I blinked, coming out of my daze.
“Two days,” I answered, and, instinctively, I began to trace his bruised eyebrow as I examined all the lines of his face: the straight, symmetrical nose, the lush, sensual mouth, and the eyes, which might have seemed cold to others but were, to me, the most expressive I had ever seen.
It was a surreal feeling—only a few hours earlier, Neil lived only in my imagination, and now here he was, right there with me.
Everything was real; it was not a dream.
He touched my hair, letting his fingers slide down to the ends.
“This is getting long,” he said thoughtfully, watching his hand instead of me. Then he let the auburn strands fall over my breast before selecting a single strand to toy with, wrapping it around his index and middle fingers.
“Yeah.” I smiled. His eyes got caught on my lips and stayed there even longer than they usually did.
“Don’t cut it,” he ordered, and my heart swelled in my chest. He liked my hair. Neil took me by the nape of the neck and drew us closer. I felt his hot breath on my lips and I swallowed nervously, quivering with the longing that coursed unstoppably through my veins.
“I’d love to show you why I like it long, but I can’t right now,” he said, his tone angry yet sensual. Then, his grip loosened, and he gave a weary sigh.
He said “can’t,” not “won’t.”
I dearly wanted to follow up on his statement, but then it occurred to me why a man might appreciate long hair, and I went red, naturally.
“No, for fuck’s sake—no blushing,” he said severely, positioning his hand between our bodies, right over his boxers.
I glanced down, seeing first the tattoo on his left hip, and then grimaced when I noticed the head of his penis, dark and swollen and peeking out from under his tight elastic waistband.
Neil squirmed around on the couch, trying to get comfortable.
It must have been difficult, dealing with such a hard, stubborn erection.
Then, like always, I got embarrassed at the knowledge that I was the one who had provoked this reaction.
For the first time, I felt the overwhelming urge to taste him in a way I’d never tasted anyone else before.
My blush deepened. The idea of doing that with a man had never occurred to me before and I knew I’d never have the guts to offer it to him.
“Why are you so embarrassed? What’s going on in your head?” Neil tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, and I looked up at him.
Why did he always have the ridiculous ability to look right through me?
I cleared my throat and inched back further on his lap. I needed to get some air and clear my head.
“Why didn’t you reply to my last text?” I asked him. Switching to another topic of conversation would give me a chance to recover.
His eyes studied me closely. Then, glancing around the couch, he stretched out an arm to scoop up the bag of pistachios he’d discarded there earlier. He opened it, looking like a little kid presented with his favorite ice cream, and pulled out a handful.
Though he was so beautiful even when he was just munching pistachios, I refused to be distracted and continued trying to extract a few more words from him.
“Because you were spouting a bunch of shit, Babygirl.” He chewed slowly and rested the bag on his stomach, periodically slipping a hand in so he could keep eating them. I was pleased that he seemed to appreciate my gift.
“A bunch of shit?” I repeated indignantly.
“So you’re telling me I’m wrong? That you don’t want me and that it wouldn’t be right doing what we both want to do?
” I folded my arms over my chest and awaited his response.
But Neil just kept eating his pistachios, oblivious to my need to have a conversation.
I considered the totality of him, not sure myself how I was resisting this Adonis.
Here he was, half-naked and underneath me with an enormous erection that was barely contained by his boxers, and I somehow hadn’t demanded he make love to me.
He watched me in turn, savage and irreverent. Then he shook his head, making me frown.
“I want you, but not in the way you’re thinking, Selene.
What I really want to do is fuck you without any obligations.
” He pulled his focus away from his pistachios and raised his torso up slightly so our eyes could meet.
Up close, wary, and inquisitorial. He was trying to get a reaction out of me.
“Is that what you want?” he asked in a soft, challenging voice.
“You want to fuck me and get fucked by me? Don’t you think we’ve used each other enough?
” He gave my thighs a squeeze, signaling that I should get off his body, but I didn’t move an inch.
Again with this using each other thing?
“You didn’t use a condom with me. You let yourself go; you even gave me one of your firsts.
Did I just dream that up, or did it really happen?
” I asked, but before I could continue, Neil took me by the hips and lifted me up with incredible ease.
He got up off the couch, and I slipped back into the spot he’d just vacated.
I could still feel his warmth in the soft fabric, and I rested a hand on it, looking up at him.
He was running away from me again.
Why couldn’t he admit it to himself? It was different with me.
“I’m your beyond. That’s what you said. What did you mean?” I chased him, determined to get him to crack. Neil scrubbed a hand over his face and paced irritably in front of me. His tight shoulders and tensed core indicated just how uncomfortable he was.
He looked like a wild beast trying and failing to free himself from a curse.
Then he turned to me, and I sucked in a breath. His face was so shadowy, brooding, and dark.
“It means that you go beyond my limits, and I can’t follow you, Selene.” He said the words firmly. Adamantly.
“Explain more.” I got up from the couch and stared him down, determined not to give up.
“We experience things differently,” he sighed in irritation.
“For you, sex means joining together; it means understanding, a relationship, fidelity, and God knows what else. For me, it’s…
” He paused, rubbing his forehead. “It’s just sex for me.
Whether I’m having it with you or someone else, it makes no difference to me.
You’re just a body that I can use to pleasure myself.
Is that what you wanted to hear? Well, there you go.
Hope you’re happy,” he burst out furiously.
I took a step back and pressed a hand to my heart.
I was not prepared for his barbs, which stabbed me in the chest like so many needles. No. Not prepared at all.
“Okay,” I whispered, trying not to cry. I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction.
Where had the scrappy woman who would do anything to convince him gone?
I knew she was still inside me somewhere but, just then, the girl who’d been deeply hurt by his words was in control.
“You know what I should do?” I asked him, my voice shaking.
“I should just stop running after you. I know that one day you’ll realize you made a mistake, but not until you’ve lost me for good.
Not until you see me happy with someone else and you know that someone else is touching me.
Not until you no longer mean anything at all to me!
” My voice went higher on the last sentence, and Neil stared intensely at me.
I couldn’t figure out what was going on in his head, but he did look thoughtful.
Serious, uncomfortable, and awfully thoughtful.
He stood there, his arms slack at his sides, his posture and expression both grim.
Why wasn’t he reacting?
“Answer me! Is that what you want to happen?” I moved closer.
He had kissed me, and he’d done it in a way that contradicted the words he’d just said.
I hadn’t imagined the longing way he touched and claimed me, wanting to take more but, for some reason that remained unknown to me, stopping himself.
He hadn’t acted like an indifferent man but rather like one who was troubled and deeply conflicted.
“That would be the right thing for you.” He licked his lips and stepped back, moving toward the bedroom.
He was demonstrating his lack of interest in me.
Or, at least, that’s what he wanted me to believe.
“I need to shower now.” He ruffled his hair and walked away again.
All I could do was stand there silently, watching him.
I realized that Neil had rescinded his attention. I was like a cigarette that he could light up or snuff out whenever he liked. He breathed me in deep and then pushed me right back out because my presence was too heavy; the things we made each other feel were too dangerous.
“I hate you, I swear I hate you. I can’t stand you! You’re such an idiot!” I exploded in exasperation, but there was nothing. Neil just hid in the bedroom, where he used his blonds, and slammed the door abruptly in my face.
He liked to spark and then stifle my desire before disappearing entirely.
Sometimes, he looked at me with a profound passion, while at others he seemed detached and removed from me.
He was a hedonist.
Everything revolved around his theory of pleasure, and he wouldn’t acknowledge the existence of anything more.
And still…I was crazy for him.