“That’s my job,” he says, giving me a cocky grin.
My palm lands on his face, and the light shatters in his eyes.
I no longer smile. He doesn’t, either.
I can see the red traces of my fingers on his face.
“I need to go,” I say, sensing a wave of panic.
His grip hardens on my neck while his lips curl into a smirk.
He erases the last shred of space between us and leans to me, as close as he can get, his lips almost touching mine while he speaks with hardly restrained fury.
“I didn’t want things to be like this, Senna. I didn’t want to hurt you as much as I didn’t want to hurt myself. I didn’t leave you because I didn’t love you. If anything, I couldn’t stop thinking about you. And I bet you couldn’t stop thinking about me too. No matter how many people were between us and who I fucked, you were the only one for me. I bet it was the same for you.”
“Don’t flatter yourself.”
He huffs and lowers his eyes to my lips, his fingers squeezing my chin like iron pliers. His eyes lift and dive into mine, and I suddenly feel open for him to read.
“How many men have fucked you this past year?”
“That’s none of your fucking business,” I blurt.
“Well, it is now.”
“Don’t fool yourself. I don’t want you back in my life.”
He smiles and lets out that soft huff again.
“It’s not up to you, baby.”
“Damn sure it is. I’d rather jump off a cliff than let you touch me again.”
He laughs before it all subsides to a small smile, and he speaks quietly.
“Do you want to put it to the test?”
“I don’t need to.”
“Really?” he murmurs, his lips curving slightly, his thumb slowly tracing the column of my neck, his gaze drifting to my collarbones and chest, smoothly weighing the swell of my breasts before dipping lower to my thighs.
He snakes an arm around my waist and pulls me into him. My dress melts into my skin.
“How does it feel, baby?” he murmurs in my ear.
His voice gives me goosebumps.
“Like a job well done,” I say.
He grins again and lowers his mouth, his hot breath trailing down my neck. The pleasure ripples across my chest and down my body, igniting a storm between my legs.
“Tell me, Senna,” he says against my skin, making me shudder.
He straightens and looks at me.
“How many men fucked you?”
“I told you it’s none of your business, and whether there was one or many, it doesn’t make a fucking difference. I didn’t waste my time thinking about you.”