Page 26 of Velvet Thorns
Her body reacts before her mind can stop it, and a loud crack tears through the room as her palm collides with my cheek hard enough to jerk my face to the side.
Fuck, I love it.
“There she is,” I say, turning to face her with a grin. “There’s my girl.”
“I’m not your anything. Now get out before I put my fist through your face.”
“You don’t get two, pretty girl,” I say, wiping my jaw where the heat of her hand lingers. “One? Sure. I get it. You’re feeling a little embarrassed about tonight.” Her expression shifts from fury to something even wilder—pure, unfiltered hatred.
She’s so beautiful.
“But two?” I tilt my head, inching closer, eyes fixed on her mouth. “That’s where I draw the line.”
“Leave…” she warns, backing up a step, chest rising like she’s preparing to scream. “I’m serious.”
“I’m not leaving until we finish what you started. Because, baby, I’ve been waiting for you a long time, and I’m not letting you go.”
“Fuck that. And fuck you,” she snaps. “You don’t get to stand here and romanticize this… this completely deranged bullshit. You need help, Phoenix. Serious, professional fucking help.”
“You call it insanity. I call it devotion.”
“To what? To me?” She lets out a humorless laugh that breaks halfway into hysteria.
She rips the envelope from my hand and throws it across the room like that’ll change anything, but I slowly walk over, crouch down, and pick it up like we’re not spiraling here.
“Who the hell were you all night, huh? Who was that?”
“I was the Phoenix you expected. The quarterback still pretending to be someone he wasn’t so you could dance your little dance. And, fuck me, it was draining. Being that version again is fucking exhausting. Now this is what you get. This is me, and deep down, you know it.”
“And now what? What’s your plan here, Phoenix?”
“Simple, after ten years of watching and waiting… you’re finally ready to come home to me. You wouldn’t be here if you weren’t. You wouldn’t have let it get this far unless some part of you still wanted me.”
“I was ready to fuck you over, and I know that’s a hit to your ego, but I don’t fucking want you. I hate you.”
“I can still smell you, baby.”
“You’re disgusting.”
“And you’re not even aware you’re still wet,” I whisper, dragging my tongue across my bottom lip. “But go ahead. Pretend it’s revulsion.”
“You know what, Phoenix? You stay. Help yourself to the bar. Get yourself off on my pillow if that’s the kind of sick shit you’re into. But I’m done.”
She grabs her shoes from the floor, slips them on, and, without looking back, saunters out the door, back down to a room full of people who hurt her.
And I just watch her go.
The sway of her hips.
The fury in her steps.
The silence she leaves behind.
The absolute gall of her turning her back on me.
I count to thirty.
Not because I want to let her go.
