“I didn’t sleep with anyone last night. I’m sorry if you thought that’s where I went.”
She didn’t believe him.
“We’ve had enough lies for one night.”
“Why would I lie to you? You’ve told me I have your permission to have sex with whoever I want. That’s not what I did.”
Her throat was lined with razors. The cab pulled over. “I don’t believe you.”
“Why not?”
“Because you told me you wanted to forget. And you told me that having sex with women is how you do that. I get it. It didn’t mean anything. You’re the King of meaningless sex.”
She was speaking too loud, but hardly realized.
He came closer, perhaps sensing that even though she was upset, she needed, more than anything, to be comforted. His arms wrapped around her waist, holding her close, staring down into her eyes.
“I didn’t want to have meaningless sex last night, Abs. I wantedyou. Not another woman. You.” He lifted a hand, cupping her cheek. “And when you made it clear that wasn’t going to happen, I went to work.”
“Work?”
“Yeah. My office.”
The cab driver honked.
She didn’t look away.
“I know, from experience, that when I wake up like that, attempting to sleep is useless. And knowing you were just across the hall made the prospect even more difficult. So, I left.”
He ran a thumb over her lower lip. “I don’t want to sleep with anyone else.”
Her heart twisted painfully.
It was an admission of so little, and yet so much. She swallowed hard, her eyes sparkling, her anger ebbing.
The cab driver honked again. Gray lifted a brow. “Do you still need this guy?”
He nodded towards the car. She followed his gaze, and slowly shook her head.
Gray pulled a ten-dollar bill from his wallet and pushed it into the open window. The cab sped off.
“I know that sex is sex with you, but I hated the idea of being so easily replaced. I hated to think that you could walk away from me and go to some other woman. All day, that idea has tortured me.”
He groaned softly. “Abby, don’t.” He brushed her lips lightly, no pressure, no promise. Just a light touch, comforting yet urgent. “Don’t think that.”
“Why not?” She closed her eyes. “You’ve done it before.”
“When have I done that before?”
“When we broke up! You moved onsofast, Gray.”
He stared at her, his face bearing a mask of steel. “Because the tabloids said so?”
She frowned, not understanding. “Because you said so,” she reminded him after a beat. “When I called you, to tell you about the baby, you said –,”
“Stop.” His eyes closed, his throat shifting as he swallowed. “I remember what I said.”
So did she. Every. Single. Word. “Can you blame me for thinking you went to someone else last night? You’ve bent over backwards to tell me again and again how little I meant to you. I’m not special. Nothing about us was special.”