Page 31

“And right there is your problem,” Gray snaps, his own long finger poking back at my shoulder. “You’re building it up so high in your mind that any guy who dares try with you is doomed to fail under the weight of your expectations.”
“Of all the asinine, ridiculous…” I lean in, my breath coming in hard pants as I struggle not to wring his thick neck. “You dare to lecture me on wanting more? Why should I listen to you, of all people?” A dark flush works over his face, and I know I should stop, I know I’m being unfair, but I’ve snapped. “You, who lets a skanky stripper suck you off while your friends watch, and then laughs about it afterward. Ever heard of VD? You can get that from oral, you know.”
“Stop,” he whispers, his eyes going glassy.
But I can’t. Ugliness is a river pouring out of me. I think of my dad cheating on my mom, of how I felt tonight, watching those girls hang on Gray. “Maybe you don’t care who it is you fuck. But I’m not like that. I need more. And if you can’t understand that, well…tough shit!”
He lashes out, grabbing my upper arms and hauling me into his chest. Strong arms wrap around me, as my nose crushes into the hard swell of his pecs. He squeezes me as if he needs to contain my words, my judgment.
“Stop it, Ivy,” he says, loud, desperate. “Please. Please, I can’t fight with you.” His voice is broken now. “Not you.”
The full impact of what I’ve said to him hits me. Horror, thick and dark, rushes up my throat on a strangled cry. “Oh God, Gray.” I wrap my arms around his waist and hold onto to him. “I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”
He’s stroking my head, as though I deserve comfort. I want to crawl into a hole and stay there.
“I didn’t mean it, Gray.” I shiver, burrowing closer, my fingers digging into the loose fall of his T-shirt. “I hate myself.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not too happy with you, or me, right now either.” Gray sighs, his hold becoming more secure. A soft touch on the top of my head, a gentle kiss. “But it’s okay. It’s okay.”
“It’s not.” I squeeze my eyes shut and breathe in the clean, comforting scent of Gray. “You’re my friend, and I hurt you. I never want to do that.”
Standing as we are, not an inch of space between us, I notice the warmth of his body, the utter strength of it. When he holds me, I’m safe, enveloped.
“It’s over.” His lips press into my temple. “And I’m sorry too. I was being an asshole, getting on you for stupid shit.”
We’re quiet then until Gray sighs, easing impossibly closer, his big hand slowly stroking up and down my spine. Comfort. That’s what he’s seeking. But I’m no longer thinking of comfort because awareness has set in, of his tight abdomen against mine, the bulge of his cock nestled against my sex. He isn’t hard, but it’s there, obvious and substantial, causing me to think about things that should never enter my head.
Deep within my belly, I clench, heat whispering over my skin. I want to melt into him, stay there all day. I want to open my legs, have him fill that lonely space in between them. If I tilt my chin, my lips will brush the satiny curve where his neck meets his shoulder. I want to lick that spot, taste it and bite it. I don’t want to think of other girls doing the same.
My heart stops. All my anger—the vicious words I’d said—is fueled by jealousy. I am jealous of those faceless, nameless women.
Shame is a lump in my throat, the pricking burn behind my lids. I lashed out because of jealousy, and it’s so wrong of me. I’m so fucking screwed, and I don’t know what to say to make it right. “Gray…”
“I don’t want you to have sex like I’ve been doing it, Ivy,” he says with sudden heat. “It ought to mean something. For you. It ought to be good like that.”
My heart hurts at the hollowness in his voice, and I spread my hand against his lower ribs, holding him. “Why can’t it be like that for you too? Why the endless hook ups?”
Because we’re so close, I feel the tension snake up his back. “It just…” He swallows hard. “I guess I keep waiting for the one who will make me want to stop.”
“Stop having sex?” I’m chilled to the bone, my heart thudding against my ribs. And I’m such a hypocrite because the thought of him not wanting to have sex again is horrific.
My hair musses as he shakes his head. “Stop moving on to the next girl.” His chest expands on a breath. “Ivy, I love women, and I love sex. But you’re right. It doesn’t mean anything to me other than quick pleasure. I don’t care who it is. I don’t remember their names. Shit, I am as bad as you said.”
He sounds so despondent that I give him a squeeze. “No, Gray. Please don’t say that. Can we just… I wish I could take back our fight.”
Slowly, he eases away from me, though his arms remain loosely wrapped around my shoulders. It takes us both a moment to meet each other’s eyes. It’s awkward, and his expression is twisted as though he’s tasted something foul. My fault. But he forces a smile. “Hey, we’re good.” He pats my hair with a clumsiness unlike him, his thumb hitting my cheekbone and nearly poking me in the eye. “It wouldn’t be normal if we never fought.”
Wincing a bit, I grasp his forearms and hold on. Because I can’t keep my hands off him, apparently. “This is true.”
Gray studies me, his blue gaze unnerving. The air between us is too thick, and I can’t breathe properly. A crease grows between his brows, as if he can see my guilt and the fact that I am fighting not to rise up on my toes and press my mouth to his soft lips. Fuck. A. Duck.