Page 58 of Goode to Be Bad

I was shaking all over, every muscle tensed hard. I turned away from her. Head ducked, fists clenched hard.

Felt her behind me, palms sliding over my belly. “Myles, let me—”

I gripped her wrists in both hands. Shook my head. “No.”

She leaned against me, breasts squishing flat against my back. “I’ll suck you off again.”

I didn’t let go. “No. Not this time.”

“Why?”

“Because I…” I ached, hurt, physically as well as emotionally. “I want something you can’t give, Lex. It’s not about the act. It’s about what it means. I’m not going to take it. It’s not going to happen on accident, in the heat of the moment.” I twisted, keeping a grip on both of her wrists. “You’re either going to want what I want, or you’re not. We can do plenty of other things, Lex. Just not that.”

“You’re not being fair,” she whispered, and I heard the hurt and confusion and anger. “You don’t know, you don’t understand.”

“I know that.” I let go of her hands, cupped her face in both hands as the water ran cool. “And I’m still not asking. But I have to hold some part of myself in reserve, Lex, or I won’t survive this. I’m offering you everything I am without reserve. If you take that offer, you get all of me. If you can’t and won’t, then I have to keep something back.”

“It’s one thing, Myles. That one act of you coming inside me without a condom—I just…I can’t do that.”

“I know. And, like I said, it’s not about the act, Lex. It’s really not. You make me feelsofucking good, every time we’re together, no matter what we do. It’s not about coming inside you bare. I don’t want that to, like, mark you or some macho possessive shit, or because I’m obsessed with how it feels.”

“Then what is it about, Myles? Because I don’t fucking understand.”

“It’s about you holding something back. It’s about you not being willing to tell mewhy not. There’s nothing I won’t and haven’t told you. Nothing I won’t do for you, nothing I won’t give you if you ask for it. You’re not with me for my fame or my money, and I’m well aware of that. But if you asked me for fucking anything, I’d do it. Want a house? I’ll buy you a mansion in fuckin’ Monaco, or a penthouse in Paris. Say the word. Want a Ferrari? I’ll go pay cash for one right this fuckin’ second. You don’t want any of that shit, and I know it. That’s almost more frustrating, because there’s not a goddamn thing I can do, not a goddamn thing I can give you to earn the trust I want from you. Because the raw truth of it is, it’s not about me. I wish it was, because then I could fuckin’dosomething. If I was an asshole and my behavior was shitty, I could fix that. If I was this or that or whatever, I could fix it. I could be better. Do better. Be a more generous lover. Buy you presents. Take you on vacations. I don’t fuckin’ know. But it’s not—fucking—about—me.” I swallowed hard, eyes burning. “And that sucks. Because it means I’m out of options. All I can do is take what you’re willing to give, because I’m a fucking addict for you now, Alexandra. I’m hooked on you, and there ain’t another drug in this world that’ll be the fix I need to live. It’s you, darlin’. You or nothin’ at all.”

I backed away, then. Turned away. Shut off the shower. Snagged a towel from the rack and used it to gently, lovingly pat and dry every inch of her perfect skin. Her hair was still wet, and I hadn’t really gotten clean, just rinsed off. I tossed the towel onto her head, and she laughed, muffled, and then went quiet as I used exquisite care to towel her hair. I pulled the towel off of her face, smiling as her hair wentpoof, into a frizz explosion in a thousand directions of straight up. I wrapped the towel around her torso, tucked it in around her chest. Wrapped her in my arms. Pulled her close. Kissed her, slowly, gently, putting everything I hadn’t had the words to say into the kiss. It was a delicate burn of a kiss, all heat and no fire, sweet as honey.

I pulled away, leaving her breathless, and just smiled down at her.

I turned, and walked away.

“Damn you to hell for that, Myles North,” I heard her whisper to herself, and I could tell she was shaky, almost tearful.

11

Lexie

That morning we were busy packing up and saying a few dozen goodbyes; that, at least, was a saving grace. It was absolute hell not dwelling on what had occurred only minutes before.

Mom and my sisters and Crow were the last group we said goodbye to, and then we all piled into a giant black Suburban borrowed from…someone in the clan. Lucas drove us to the ferry with our single bag each, and Mom tried in vain to pretend she wasn’t about to get all emotional that I was leaving again so soon.

Because we were flying private, we didn’t have to go through security or parking, which Lucas thought was just the greatest thing ever. We parked right on the tarmac near the idling jet, and Myles invited everyone aboard for a quick peek.

“Dude, Lex, I am so fucking jealous,” Cassie said, sprawling out on the couch. “Thisis how you do international travel. For real.”

I just grinned. “It is pretty pimp.”

“The pimpest.” She held out her fist to Myles, and they tapped knuckles; then, Cassie’s eyes went serious, fiery. “Take care of my sister, Myles North.”

He nodded. “I absolutely will.”

“Don’t give up on her,” she said.

“Cassandra, goddammit, not now,” I snarled. “Seriously? Can no one give it a rest for one day?”

“Alexandra, goddammit, yes, right now,” she shot back. “I’m just saying my truth because who knows when or if I’ll ever see him again, so this is my chance. I like him for you, Lexie. And just for the record, if you don’t take the chance while you’ve got it, you’re a moron.” She stood up, wrapped me up in a tight, fierce embrace. “I mean that with all the love I have for you.” She held me at arm’s length, her eyes damp. “And that, just so we’re clear, is a fucking lot.”

Mom sighed. “You don’t need to swear to make your point, girls.”