Page 132 of Cruel When He Smiles

I can controlhim.

So, I pull back first.

I feel the second it hits him—the second he realizes I’m the one who’s taking away the thing he didn’t want to admit he needed.

Liam’s breath hitches, when I step back, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, tilting my head slightly as I watch him.

“You’re right, Callahan,” I say as I remove his keys from my pocket and put them against his chest. “Maybe this was a mistake.”

Liam’s hand comes up fast, grabbing the keys before they can fall, but he doesn’t look down at them. His eyes are still locked on me, narrowed, hard in a way that feels less like pure anger and more like he’s building walls in real time. His jaw flexes twice before he speaks.

“You think walking away makes you the one in control?” His voice is quiet, which is somehow worse than if he were yelling. “That’s the problem, Nate—you think this is a fucking game.”

I let out a humorless laugh, shaking my head. “No, Liam. I think you’re trying to make me pay for something you can’t even define. You’re spiraling and looking for somewhere to dump it.”

“Spiraling,” he repeats, like he’s tasting the word. His mouth curves, but it’s not even close to a smile. “You think I’m spiraling because of you?”

My stomach knots because I know where this is going, but I’m not going to give him the satisfaction of backing down. “Yeah, I do. You said it yourself—”

“No, Pup. You’re just a distraction.”

The hit is so clean I almost don’t feel it at first. I bite down on the inside of my cheek, trying not to show it, but he sees everything. He always does.

“Oh, don’t give me that look,” he says, stepping in closer, the keys still clutched in his hand. “You’re here because I let you be here, and you stay because you like how I make you feel when you’re underneath me. You like the praise, the control, the way I can turn you into exactly what I want with a few words. That’s why you’re still around. Not because you actually give a damn about me.”

“That’s bullshit.” My voice comes out sharper than I meant it to, but I’m not going to let him rewrite this into something that insignificant.

“Is it?” His tone is flat, unbothered, like he’s just reciting a fact. “Tell me, Nate—take away the sex, take away the dominance, take away the nights where you get to lose yourself in me—what’s left? Don’t pretend it wasn’t about the way I fuck you and control you. You want to talk about mistakes? That’s the mistake. Thinking there was more to it than that.”

My chest tightens, anger clawing at my ribs. “You really think I’m only here for that?”

His eyes cut into mine like he’s daring me to say otherwise. “You’ve made it pretty clear. The second I stop giving you what you want in bed, you start pushing, start playing these little power games. You don’t want me—you want what I do to you. You’re not here for my thoughts, Nate. You’re not here because you want to sit in silence with me on a fucking ridge and figure out what’s going on in my head. You’re here because you want my hands on you, my mouth on you, my voice telling you you’re mine. That’s our currency.”

The words are meant to cut, and they do, but I don’t let him see it. “If I’m just convenient, then why the fuck are you here right now? Why toss me your keys? Why let me drive your car?”

His jaw tightens. “Because even distractions have their uses.”

I turn like I’m going to walk away, just to put some space between us before I throw myself at him for all the wrong reasons. “Then maybe you should find another one.”

I hear the slight catch in his breath behind me before I walk back toward the car, not giving him the satisfaction of knowing whether he got to me or not.

Fuck him. I’ll make him feel the loss of me.

For the next few days, I ignore his texts. I don’t meet his eyes in practice and when we pass each other on campus, I don’t stop,don’t nod, I don’t even acknowledge him. I walk right by, making it look effortless.

And Liam hates it. He’s unraveling, and for once, it’s not because he planned it that way.

It takes three days before he breaks.

I’m stretched out on the Sigma Rho Alpha common room couch alone, my legs crossed at the ankles, and scrolling through my phone without much thought. The place is quiet, the kind of lazy afternoon where time feels slowed.

I can feel him standing behind me, I don’t even need to turn around to know it’s him. My body knows before my mind catches up.

“Pup.”

His voice is soft and not the usual coaxing softness or sharp command. Now his tone is threaded with an edge of desperation I’ve never heard from him before.

I smirk, still looking down at my phone. “Something you need, Callahan?”