Page 150 of Losing Faith

Jackson stifles a laugh, his arms around my waist. “Okay, I don’t think your depression iscured. It’s thirty thousand dollars.” He keeps his voice low, but I still pull away to look at him, my brows furrowed.

“I didn’t say it was. It’s not the money, it’s someone wanting what I created.”

“Right, but one good day doesn’t mean your life is going great.”

I remove my arms from around him now. “Why are you being so negative?” When his shoulders sag, I know exactly what this is. “Sire spoke to you.” I let out a scoff as I turn back to the art on the wall.

“Don’t be like that.” He tries to wrap his arm around my waist again, but I push him away.

“Stop touching me.” I take a step away. “I’m not having ahigh highday. I know what those are, trust me, I’m the one with depression. I’m just happy.”

“And I’m happy that you’re happy.”

I pull away when he tries to touch me. “What exactly did he tell you?” I watch him carefully, but he doesn’t say anything. “Whatever.” I walk off, his presence suddenly annoying me.

He calls out to me, but I keep walking, and since we’re in a room full of people, he doesn’t yell after me, but I hear his footsteps so I hurry mine. I walk into the first door I see which happens to be the men’s bathroom.

Just as I turn to leave, Jackson quickly walks in after me.

“Move.” I try to get around him but he steps in my way.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he coos and I roll my eyes at how damn sexy he sounds.

“You don’t get to call me that when I’m mad at you. Why can’t you guys just leave me alone? When I’m sad, you’re both overbearing. When I’m happy, it’s a fucking crime. What do you want?!”

“Lower your tone,” Jackson says cooly, his voice low.

“No, you—”

I don’t get to finish my sentence as he leans over, capturing my lips with his. His tongue slides into my mouth before his hand comes around my throat and I’m suddenly pinned against a wall.

I’m breathless as I kiss him back, but I make no move to pull away. Our tongues dance together as my arms come around his neck and through his curls.

When the kiss breaks, it’s him who pulls away. “Are you done being a brat?”

I try to catch my breath and a smirk grows on his face, his hand still around my throat.

“I’m not being abrat. I’m making very valid points.” I try to move his hand from around me, but as my hand touches his, I can’t bring myself to push him away.

“You are making valid points but you don’t have to storm off and yell to make them. I’m sorry for bringing your mood down. I’m happy that you’re happy. I just don’t want you to feel like all is lost in the world if you wake up tomorrow and you’re sad.”

I don’t say anything because this is the part where I apologize for yelling and I don’t feel like it.

He gives me a knowing look, but my eyes cut down to the floor. His hand tightens around my throat as he tilts my face up to meet his eyes.

“Say sorry.”

Two words shouldnotmake my stomach dip the way it just did.

“No.” I find myself saying, simply to push him and see where this goes. “How about you stop—”

“I don’t want to argue with you, sweetheart.”

“Oh, we’re arguing, and stop calling me—”

His lips meet mine again and I feel myself smiling against him before his hand tightens around my throat again. A moan escapes me as I hold onto the hand around me, but he doesn’t move to loosen his grip as his other hand pulls my dress up.

I pull him closer and when his hand finds my wet underwear, a breath of surprise slips past my lips. I’m practicallybeggingfor him as I spread my legs and as slow as humanly possible, he slips his hand in my underwear and rubs me in slow circles.

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