Page 109 of Bad Boy Next Door
Thirty-One
Nick
Iloved Jade. So fucking much. But we were going to have to talk about this rough sex thing. Not that I didn’t enjoy it, but it was too easy for me to lose control. In the heat of it, my body’s pleasure fogged out all other thoughts, all other senses except those involved in the intersection between us. And if I ever hurt her…
I shook my head. I couldn’t bear it. When the sex got rough, I got lost in the pleasure, fucking high on it, but I felt like shit after. Especially this time.
Even though she’d finally said “I love you” and agreed to move in, it was like we’d gone backward. Back to that first night when I’d taken her hard in the club, when she’d freaked when our eye contact made her feel something real.
I set down my glass beside the one I’d filled for her. She’d been gone longer than I expected, and even though it had only been long enough for me to drink two glasses of water, I couldn’t wait to hold her again, to fall asleep with her cuddled in my arms. I should change the sheets.
I walked into the bedroom. Something was scattered over my bed.
It was the card I’d given her.
Love swept through me even harder. The card was torn into pieces, but she’d kept it. Even when she’d been so angry with me, she’d kept it, the girl who kept nothing. But why scatter it on my bed? And why now?
We needed to talk. I pulled on my jeans and headed out the door.
Someone was pulling a suitcase on the courtyard below, the wheels grinding the concrete, and I glanced over the railing, curious to see who was off on a trip before dawn.
My heart froze. “Jade!” I yelled down.
She walked faster, passing the pool.
Shoeless, I raced down, taking three or four stairs at a time, grabbing onto the railings and swinging around the landings. When I got to the bottom, she was already opening the gate that led to the sidewalk, and I ran as fast as I could, catching a glimpse of her as she rounded the corner, uphill from Shady Oaks.
“Jade! Stop! What the hell?” She’d gone the opposite direction from the main part of town, from anywhere she could easily catch a bus or a cab—likely hoping I’d head the other way.
When she realized I’d foiled her plan, she stopped. She took a visibly long breath, her shoulders heaving like I was some chore she had to endure. She didn’t even turn, didn’t release the tight grip on her suitcase handle.
“What’s going on?”
“What did you expect?” she asked when I got close.
I stepped around to face her. “I don’t understand.” I could barely talk. Out of breath and out of ideas about what I’d done wrong. Something so wrong she was leaving? Without telling me?
“Where are you going?” I reached toward her. “How long will you be gone?”
“Forever and none of your fucking business.” Her face was full of fury.
And now I was mad, too. “This is the way you deal with problems?” I asked her. “Running away? With no explanation? Without even telling me what I did wrong? Fuck you.”
“Fuckyou, you liar.”
“Liar? When did I lie?”
Lights went on in the house beside us, and a man banged on his window. “It’s six o’clock in the morning!” he shouted at us.
We were yelling. “Let’s go home and talk,” I said, frustration churning inside me. Frustration coupled with fear. What if she reallydidleave? For real. How would I live? How would I breathe?
“There’s nothing left to talk about.” She tried to step around me.
I picked her up in a fireman’s hold, draped over my shoulder. Her suitcase dropped from her hand, and I caught the handle as I turned around.
“Put me down.” She punched at my back and started to kick.
“Keep kicking and I’m giving your suitcase to the homeless guy down the street.”
