Page 52 of Wicked Temptations

“We just fucked, Ash. It was good. Now we go home.” I moved toward the door. “Pretty standard procedure.”

He grabbed my arm. Not hard but enough to stop me. “Wait.”

I looked down at his hand, then back at his face. “Let go.”

“Not yet.”

“Ash.”

“You feel this too.” Ash’s grip tightened slightly, and the certainty in his voice made my mouth go dry. “I know you do.”

My pulse kicked up. This was exactly what I’d been afraid of. That he’d notice that something had changed, both in me and in the dynamic between us. I’d touched his fucking hair because I wanted to; because I wanted to inject meaning into us so I could balance the chaos in my head. Because I wanted to stay, and I wanted him to ask me questions and smile at me across a room.

But that was the wrong choice. It always was.

“You’re imagining things, Ash.”

“Bullshit.” He stepped closer. “Earlier. Outside. You touched me like—”

“Like what?” I jerked my arm free. “Like I was fixing your fucked-up hair? Because that’s all it was.”

“It wasn’t.”

“You’re reading into nothing.” Why couldn’t he understand I needed this to be the case? I needed him to drop the subject and be happy with just hate-fucking me over every available surface.

But then he’d never really hated me, and we both knew that too.

“Then why are you freaking out about it, Jude?”

“I’m not freaking out.” I opened the door, letting fluorescent light from the hallway spill in. “I’m leaving. There’s a difference.”

He pushed the door shut before I could get through. His palm was flat against the metal, his arm extended past my shoulder. Not quite caging me in but close enough. Every part of me wanted to melt, but I forced myself to stand to full height, clenched my jaw so tight that it hurt, and then I glared at him.

“Move your fucking hand, Ash.” I wasn’t playing around. He needed to step back.

The asshole didn’t even flinch. “What are we doing, Jude? What is this thing between us?”

“Sex.” I met his eyes. “That’s what it is. That’sallit is.”

“That’s all?” He didn’t buy it. “We’ve been fucking for weeks now, and when you chase me through this goddamn park like a lunatic, I feel it. I feel your—” he breathed in deep, re-centering himself. “This isn’t just sex. Not anymore.”

“Yes, it is!” My voice came out harder than I had intended, but I had to make him understand. “Stop trying to make this into something it’s not. We hate fuck. There’s nothing else to it. Quit trying to make it romantic.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Then why are you trying to force that between us?”

He wanted a relationship. That was what this was about. He wanted dates and calling each other ‘baby’ and all that co-dependent bullshit people convinced themselves they needed. He wanted love.

And I couldn’t give him that.

I wouldn’t survive when it all fell apart.

He opened his mouth then closed it. His jaw worked like he was chewing on words he couldn’t quite spit out.

“I don’t know, Jude. I only know I want something more than just fucking in secret.”

“You want to fuck in front of everyone?” Why was I such a cunt?