Page 67 of Consumed By You
“Why?”
“Because I feel sick.”
“Tell me what to do,” I say helplessly.
“I-I need to get out of here.”
He crumbles in front of me.
What the hell is going on?
“What? No, stay,” I protest, but he’s already headed for the door. I’m unable to get a single word out before the door slams shut, leaving me completely alone. I eye my entranceway in dismay, unable to comprehend what just happened.
How could he think it was his fault? They were drunk.
I sigh, retrieving my nightgown from the floor. Might as well shower while he’s gone.
Is he even going to come back? Will I ever see him again?
Panic seizes me and I tremble, hoping my fears are just overreactions.
***
I’m in bed, showered and dressed in yoga pants and a tank top when I hear a soft knock. Benjamin quietly reenters my living space, shuts the front door behind him.
He glares at me disapprovingly. “You should have locked the door.”
“I was hoping you were coming back,” I say. “I wouldn’t have heard you in the shower.”
“I would have waited. Darcy,neverleave your door unlocked.”
I refuse to respond, because if I do, I’d tell him he’s crazy if he thinks he can order me around. He runs a hand through his hair. He’s a complete mess.
Wordlessly, he comes to the bed and lifts the covers, to my surprise settling in beside me. I roll over to face him and he does the same.
“It’s not your fault, Benjamin.”
“I’d really like not to talk about that right now,” he whispers, his voice controlled.
“Why did you come back?”
He pins me with his emerald eyes and shrugs. “I don’t know.”
Ihatethat answer. I stare at him, hoping my persistence will force him to talk.
“I want to help you. Maybe that’s it.”
I look away, trying to conceal the flash of pain that crosses my features. Why can’t he love me? Is he incapable of love?
“What do you feel for me, Benjamin?” I shouldn’t even be asking him this in the first place, but I can still feel his lips on mine. I can’t resist knowing.
“I care about you, you know that.” He lays his hand over mine and I study their compatibility closely—the shape, the lengths, the curves. We’re the perfect fit. His hand is much larger than mine, but when put vertically together, they look like one.
“I know you care about me. I’m really not asking that.”
“Darcy, I-I don’t believe in what you do. That hasn’t changed.” He exhales, squeezing my hand tightly. “I believe in lust. I believe in wanting someone more than anything in the world. But the love you’re looking for? That doesn’t exist.”
I keep my mouth shut, still trying to rein in my emotions so I don’t lose it in front of him.
