“I haven’t made her feel unimportant since it happened though. I’ve gone out of my way to give her attention—you know that.”
“I do. I also know that the one time you let her down is going to stand out more than the many times you didn’t. You have to make it up to her. I think you should apologize.”
His gaze drifts back toward me. “For Vince?”
“Well… sure. But also for ignoring her when she begged you for help. That’s a hard thing to come back from. You lost her trust when you did that. Tell her you regret everything that happened and you’ll never do it again.”
Shaking his head, he says, “I won’t tell her that.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t know if I can keep that promise. In the long run, it’s worse to make a promise and break it than not to make it at all.”
“Well, who else can you kill? I mean, Vince is already dead, so just don’t kill me or Adrian and I think you’re pretty much set.”
“I don’t know how someone so naturally submissive could be this hard to conquer.”
I adjust my hand on his chest and close my eyes. “You shouldn’t have killed her boyfriend. That was a mistake. But she’s out of boyfriends to kill, so let’s just get past this and we’ll be good.”
He’s quiet for a couple minutes, then he suddenly asks, “Do you think she likes Mark?”
“Not sexually, no.”
My opinion seems to weigh more than whatever data he’s compiled, so he relaxes.
I’m completely exhausted now, so I lean over and brush a little kiss across his perfect lips. “You should get some sleep and finish plotting against Mia tomorrow.”
Lightly smiling, he acknowledges, “Maybe.”
“Definitely.” I yawn, my eyes watering.
He surprises me by coming in for one more kiss. “Thank you for being you.”
I flash him a sleepy smile. “Anytime.”
Chapter Twenty Six
Mia
Mateo’s hand creeps between my legs.
I squeeze them together just to be difficult, but he rolls his eyes at the attempt to block him out. His strong hand pushes between them anyway, his finger dipping inside me.
I’m face-down on the bed already, my hair still damp from a shower. Our shower, I guess. It started out just mine. He wanted to watch me, and he activated the sex-over-brain feature only he knows how to access, so I went along with it. But then he wanted me, so he climbed in behind me and fucked me until there was no hot water left. After that, he carried me into the bedroom, water still dripping from both of us. I clung to his body like I’d die if he let me go, and I kissed him, even though he was kissing me back. Then he threw me down on the bed and finished fucking me.
We haven’t managed to get clothes on yet. We’re still in bed, still damp, and I can’t believe he’s trying to fuck me again. It’s been just long enough for my brain to turn back on now though, so I remember not to want him.
He’s not in any hurry, apparently. Leisurely toying with my pussy, he moves his body toward mine and drops kisses along the curve of my back. It’s so hard when he gets tender. He’s never unguarded around me anymore, and it makes me so sad. I’m the last person in the world I want Mateo to need his guard up around. It kills me knowing he wants me, because regardless of his treatment of me sometimes, I know it isn’t just sexual. He still spends far more time in my bed than Meg’s, and although I continue to resist his efforts, I’ve felt a difference in myself lately. I’ve felt the love and protectiveness I used to feel for him trying to pull me back in. Sometimes I feel like he’s vulnerable to me, like he needs me, and it literally hurts not to give myself to him. It hurts me to deny him.
The problem is, it hurts more not to. Sometimes I can’t fight it. Some nights I’m his in ways I promised I never would be again. But morning always comes. The fog always clears. I always remember what having this cost Vince, and then I hate myself. I hate myself so much.
I don’t think he ever meant to make me hate myself.
Last night was the worst. Last night he almost got me to tell him I loved him. It was another fuck-a-thon, I was exhausted physically, over stimulated. I just wanted him to stop—needed him to stop. I needed a break, and he doesn’t give breaks, especially not when he’s on a mission. I just wanted to submit to him. I wanted to let him win. Then he could curl up beside me and hold me, and we could have peace.
But we can’t. There is no peace here. The more I admit to myself I want him, the less peace I have. I know, because I couldn’t get out “I love you” but I was so tapped out last night, I did tell him I wanted him. It wasn’t what he wanted, but he accepted it. He asked how much. He made me tell him. Then he made me come again, and I don’t know if it was the last orgasm I couldn’t handle or submitting to him, but when he finished, when he curled up beside me, I couldn’t hold back tears. I sobbed like he’d hurt me, and he hadn’t. I had to get out of his embrace, and I just curled up on my side of the bed, away from him.