Page 52 of Almost Rotten

I saunter close enough that I have to tip my chin back to look him in the eye.

“Maybe you don’t know me as well as you think, Ty.”

With his jaw clenched, he glares at me with an intensity that should scare me.

But I’m not scared of him. In this moment, I’m not scared of anything.

I’m fearless and reckless and so fucking done with feeling helpless.

“Maybe you don’t know anything about what I like. Who I like. What I find attractive,” I taunt.

“I saw you with him,” Tytus grits out. “I saw you with another man. There’s video proof.”

I flip my hair over my shoulder. “It’s not one or the other, Ty. I like fucking men and women. Sometimes I like fucking them both at the same time.”

His eyes bulge in a way that nearly makes me cackle.

Before the sound can escape, I slap my hand over my mouth. He honestly thought I waited around for him? That I’ve never been with anyone besides Mercer? I seriously can’t with him right now.

“I’m not some sweet, innocent virgin who saved herself for you. Get that idea through your head. I’ve found plenty of ways—with plenty of people—to distract myself over the last three years.”

Fury rolls off him in waves.

Still, he doesn’t scare me.

I’m so beyond caring about his reaction. I’m invincible thanks to the marijuana in my bloodstream and the sheer exhaustion of this week.

He stalks toward me, forcing me back. I don’t fight it. It doesn’t matter where I land.

None of it matters.

Nothing matters anymore.

When the backs of my legs hit the bed frame, I throw my arms back, catching myself.

Teeth bared, he gets right up in my face. “Take it back.”

From this close, I take in the soft tendrils of hair that have fallen in his face. The sharp, natural arch of his eyebrows and the perfect cupid’s bow of his upper lip.

He’s beautiful on the outside.

On the inside? He’s so fucking damaged that I’ll never look at him the way I used to again.

I shake my head and offer him a saccharine smile.

“Take it back,” he repeats through gritted teeth. He leans forward and places his hands on either side of the mattress, caging me in.

“Take what back?” A yawn escapes me as I rest on my forearms and prop up my upper body.

“Lie, mon ange. Take it back and tell me lies, before the darkness pulls me under.”

I gape. Is he serious?

There’s no way my reality should have that kind of power over him.

“But everything I just said is true,” I tell him, keeping my tone light.

He shakes his head violently, slamming his eyes closed. “No. It’s not true. It can’t be. I refuse to believe it. Anything other than the fantasy I’ve dreamed of for all these years is enough to send me fucking spiraling, so take it fucking back.”