Page 43 of Unhinged Love

“I don’t need porn. I can get pussy whenever I want.”

I’m getting tired of this conversation. “Anyway, I’m still recovering from the fucking wedding. It’s a shame you guys weren’t there. There were a ton of girls around. Daughters of the women Irene wants to be friends with.” It’s immature, but I can’t help gagging when I say her name.

“And I bet all those old ladies wanted you to hook up with their daughters,” Preston teases with a laugh. “God, weddings are the best for getting laid. It’s a shame you couldn’t score invites for us.”

“I know Dad would’ve liked it if some of my friends could’ve made it—anything to get me in a better mood about the day. But he already had to shell out a fortune to get all of Irene’s guest list in there.” Not like she knew a lot of the people. The whole thing is still too sad and pathetic.

Easton sits up a little straighter and cranes his neck, and I’m about to ask what called his attention when I notice movementout of the corner of my eye. Inside the kitchen, just on the other side of the floor to ceiling bay windows.

There goes that hot, bitter sensation. She’s using the blender, making a smoothie. Instead of a sweater today, she’s wearing a sweatshirt, and it’s big enough that it hangs halfway down her thighs. The rest of her legs are covered in jeans, and her hair hangs down around her face as usual, but she can’t hide the way she peers out from behind those limp locks from the corner of her eye.

Oh, the sneaky little bitch. Probably figured she could get away with coming down to the kitchen since I’m out here with the guys. Hiding, as always, shoulders up around her ears.

And she’s the one who walked off on me yesterday. What does that say about me? My jaw is aching from all the teeth grinding I’m doing.

“Tell me she wore something better than that for the wedding,” Easton groans.

“I noticed her at your party,”Preston muses. Like his brother, he’s staring into the kitchen. Neither of them bother hiding their interest. I’m sure it’s making her skin crawl. “She’s got a great body under all that shit she wears.”

“Don’t say that.” Fuck me. Where did that come from? The two of them look at me with their mouths hanging open, telling me they’re just as surprised as I am. “She’s fucking gross. I thought you had better taste than that.”

“We have different definitions of gross if she’s yours,” Preston tells me with a laugh. “She’s got a great ass. Nice legs, too—a shame she always hides them.”

Am I in hell? What did I do to deserve this? “You both need medication or something if that’s your idea of remotely fuckable.” And now I don’t even want to swim anymore. There’sno reason for me to feel this uncomfortable. Nothing that makes any sense, anyway. I only know I don’t want to be around these two anymore.

I’m trying to come up with an excuse to get rid of them as I push myself up out of the pool, but there’s really nothing I can say that they won’t question. So instead, I settle on telling the truth. “I’m not really feeling this. I don’t feel great in general.”

“You don’t seem like you feel right.” There’s no judgment from Preston, or from Easton, when he grunts in agreement. “It’s cool. Go jerk off or something. It’ll make you feel more relaxed.”

“Not everything is about that.” Though right now, it seems like this is about that—at least a little. There’s this unreal tension tearing at me. I don’t know what to do about it, what to do about her. Can I have a single day when I don’t have to talk about her or acknowledge she exists?

Not like it matters, since she’s always on my mind. Especially today. I should’ve known better than to try to be nice to her. Who the hell does she think she is, acting like she’s better than me?

Instead of going to the house, the guys walk around the outside to reach the car they left in the driveway. I can hear the engine as they pull out of the drive while I open the sliding glass door leading into the kitchen.

“I’m just cleaning up after myself. I’m not trying to get in the way or anything.” She won’t look at me as she washes out the blender.

“You already did.”

She slows down until the sponge is barely moving inside the glass carafe. “What are you saying? I didn’t do anything.”

“Right. Keep telling yourself that.”

For some reason, she has this idea now that she can show me her temper whenever she feels like it. Her hands slap the counter before she spins around, eyes narrowed behind those uglyglasses. “Do me a favor, please. Stop blaming me for everything that goes wrong in your life. It’s starting to get boring.”

“The only thing that went wrong in my life today is the way you paraded yourself around in front of the window to get Preston and Easton’s attention.”

“What?” She blurts out a laugh before covering her mouth with her hand, and the gesture only pisses me off worse than ever. Who the fuck is she laughing at—me? “Is that really what you think I was doing? You need help, seriously.”

She has forgotten who is in charge around here, and that’s on me. I’ve made life too easy for her lately. I’ve been too nice, trying to relate to her for some stupid reason. She’s not worth the effort.

She barely has time for her eyes to widen before I’m on her, pinning her against the counter and leaning in until she has to bend backward. That arrogant gleam in her eye is extinguished like a candle flame in a sudden breeze. She’s pretty tough when she thinks she can get away with shit, isn’t she? Call her bluff, and she’s a trembling, whimpering little nothing. The way I’ve always known she is.

But even now, she can’t let go of this fake defiance. “Tell me exactly how I was showing myself off when I’m wearing a sweatshirt that covers half my body.” It doesn’t matter that her chin trembles when she lifts it. She lifts it in the first place, which is enough of a problem. I have let things go too far. “Tell me. What was I doing wrong? I wouldn’t want to do it again.”

“Keep it up,” I warn, leaning in close enough that I can see her pulse fluttering in her neck. “See how far it gets you?”

This isn’t enough. Having her this close, watching fear darken her brown eyes until they’re almost black. All it does is make me want more of her fear. I need her trembling. I crave the satisfaction of her submission once she understands she can’t fight me.

---