Page 96 of Bad Situation

I don’t open the door. “You mean like you shut me out?”

His eyes do a lazy roll.

“Why don’t you want me here?” I repeat.

He stands up straight but doesn’t move his boot. Shaking his head, he lets an arm fall to his side, as exhausted as his eyes. “I don’t know how to deal with all this, Jen. My dad, his illness, me leaving for years and coming back to how he is now. I’ve got a new job and have just been slapped with an OPR case, and then all of your shit, and…” he pauses and slaps his hands on the wall and door again, “and just fucking you. Bringing you into my shitty world right now was not my plan. Yesterday I had to tear out their kitchen ‘cause he lit it on fire. I was out all day trying to find affordable daycare places for my mom to take him. I’ve been struggling for months with this shit. Then you waltz in and make two phone calls—two fucking phone calls and offer to foot the bill.”

I can’t help it. He sounds more defeated than he looks and that’s saying something. I reach through the door easily and touch his face.

“Jen,” he breathes and opens his eyes. “I’m exhausted. Open the door.”

I pull my arm away and try to close the door so I can flip the bar.

“Wait.” He stops me and all of a sudden looks a little more alive. “You promise you won’t shut me out?”

I roll my eyes. “I promise. Now move.”

He pulls his foot from the door and I shut it to flip the bar. When I pull the handle, he pushes his way in and the next thing I know, my face is captured between his big hands and his mouth is on mine.

I’m pushed backward as the heavy door falls shut, closing us in. He thrusts his tongue into my mouth and our teeth clash. The next thing I know, I’m being pressed up to the wall with his big body and he’s devouring me.

I should be angry. I should make him go away until he’s sober and he can explain why he kept his dad’s illness from me—why he felt he couldn’t trust me. The way he treated me today hurt. It stung in a place that can only be wounded by the ones we love the most—that in and of itself scares me. What scares me even more is my heart hurts for him because I feel his agony over his dad, his family, and their situation. I know that’s why he lashed out.

But having his hands on me like this—like he has no control and needs me like he needs his next breath? There’s no way I can push him away.

He needs me and I like it.

No.

I love it.

I want him to need me as much as I need him.

With this, forgiveness isn’t even a question.

He rips his mouth from mine but presses me tighter, caging me in. When he looks down at me, it’s like he’s afraid I’ll run or yell or push him away.

“Fucking lost my mind when I saw you sitting in my parents’ house. It’s easy to fit into your life. Taking care of you is second nature.” He presses his hips into my stomach, his cock hard. His grip on my face tightens and he leans in where I see nothing but him. “Like I was meant for the job. It makes me crazy thinking about anyone else doing that but me. But when I walked in today and saw you with my family,” he closes his eyes and shakes his head, “with my dad—it was too much. You looked out of place in my world, a world I can’t get a grip on or, for the life of me, fix.”

I pull at his neck and he rests his forehead on mine. “It’s okay.”

He shakes his head. “It’s not.”

“You can’t do everything, Eli. No one can.”

His hands drop to my shoulders and roughly feel their way down my chest where they land on my breasts and squeeze. “I don’t like feeling out of control. Fucking life … it’s in a tailspin.”

He rips my thin tank up, bringing my arms with it, and it’s gone. Dipping his hand straight into my pants and panties, he cups me between my legs.

“Let me help you,” I breathe, grinding onto his hand as he takes what’s his, doing it without permission or apology. “I want to help you.”

Holding my sex tight and finger fucking me, pressing the heel of his hand into my clit, I’m already wet and needy. He rips at the button of his jeans and frees himself. When I look between us, my breasts are heaving and his thick, veined cock is pressed into my stomach, its tip glistening.

Ripping his hand away from my sex just long enough to drag my yoga pants and panties down my legs, I’m up, pressed against the wall, and Eli surges inside.

I wrap myself around him, lift my knees, and press down. His hand comes under my bottom and I groan when he pushes a finger inside me next to his cock, stretching me impossibly wide. But when he drags it out and to my ass, circling me there before pressing in, my breath catches.

He pulls out before thrusting back in, hard, mirroring the action with is finger.

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