Page 79 of Phobia
The fact he could hold me immobile so easily was just…
It was…
Distracting.
“What?” What part of my rant had he latched on to this time? Honestly, I’d already forgotten what I’d said.
“Do you really suck cock for food?”
His pupils had blown wide and dark with concern, his tongue flickering out to wet his lower lip.
Oh.Shit. I hadn’t meant to say that. My cheeks burned.
“Wouldn’t you like to know.” I leered at him. The words were out before I could stop them, and I watched the concern on his face melt away into fury. I’d crossed a line. I knew that, he knew that, we all knew that. Oops.
“Fuck off, Oliver.”
Wow.
He was mad again, but this time it didn’t feel nearly as good. Still pissed at him, I couldn’t help the way I retorted. Fighting with him felt like muscle memory, despite the fact that this was my first time truly lashing out. Or maybe I was just trying to forget the desire that was building up inside me, the way my cock twitched, the way his attention made me feel ten feet tall.“I wish.I wish I could. I wish I could fuck off far, far away from you.”
He stared at me for what felt like eternity. Seeing right through my bluster to where my insides shriveled up at the thought of actually upsetting him.
“No you don’t.” His voice was soft, certain.
I swallowed my tongue, thunder rumbling in the distance as I tried to figure out what to say. Anger was familiar. Like slipping on an old glove. Obviously, despite my rant, he still thought he was better than me. He thought I needed him. Maybe I did. Maybe that was the part of this that pissed me off most of all.
Because I did need him.
If he hadn’t followed me overboard, I’d be—
“You don’t know anything, Henry Rivera,” I whispered. His name was like a shield between us. A wall built of everything that was wrong about us interacting in the first place. After all, he’d been banished to the docks because he’d fucked a boy—like it was punishment living there. Like the things I did, like a life like mine, was punishment for someone like him.
The distance between us was as vast as the ocean beneath us.
I could feel his eyes, hot as they trailed over my cheek, his large body splayed open to accommodate my sad sprawl. The heat of his inner thighs bled against mine. For a moment, maybe I’d forgotten how different we were. But I shouldn’t have. His grip grew tighter as I wedged a proverbial knife between us. “You’re just a spoiled rich boy who got caught with his cock somewhere it shouldn’t have been.”
I didn’t want to need him. I didn’t. I’d been on my own for years now, and I’d gotten by just fine. Maybe I’d done some things I wasn’t proud of—but, I’d survived hadn’t I? I was self-sufficient. Until now.
Unlike him, I was alone.
“And yet, despite your fuck-ups, Daddy’s gonna ride his white horse right on in to save you.” I swallowed. Maybe he just truly didn’t understand, because his eyes were warm now, so different from the anger that had blazed only moments prior. “You’re not expendable like I am. If you weren’t here, no one would be coming for me.” That thought alone made my palms sweat and my pulse race. “You don’t know what it’s like not to matter.” My throat was tight. “So fuck off with your lofty morals. Telling me you’re better than me because I’ve done what I had to do to get by. I could lie, cheat, and steal every day for my entire fucking life and never have a fraction of what you have.”
My cheeks were hot with fury, my eyes stinging as I glared at him. The harder I pushed him away, the warmer his eyes became. I needed him to know how different we were. Maybe…maybe what I needed most though was for him to understand that I wasn’t a bad person. He’d called me a thief like I might as well have been a demon. I did bad things, sure. But it wasn’t my fault the universe had decided to fuck me in the ass and fuck off. “Maybe Iamjealous of you. Maybe I wish I had what you have. But I’d rather be jealous than be what you are.”
“And what is that?” Henry’s voice was hoarse again.
“Ignorant and ungrateful.”
Chapter 3
Oliver’s eyes blazed, and maybe he didn’t know it, but they were wet. Glistening like the sea-splattered wood planking on our boat, while they flickered with the stars that no longer hung above us. I suppose he was right. About all of it. I hadn’t known what it was like for him.
I still didn’t.
His words echoed in the back of my head, and I knew what their purpose had been, he wanted to push me away. Despite the fact that he called me emotionless, I was anything but that. He didn’t know me, not really. He didn’t know the years I’d spent with my heart on my sleeve, only to learn all that ever got me was a slap on the hand and disappointment.
It was better to be aloof.
