Page 102 of It's Always Been You
“Evie—”
Before he can get another word in, I lift my hand to slap him.
Chapter 33
Brandon
Evie’smouthislockedwith mine. I don’t know how it happened, exactly. One second, she was charging me like she was about to smack me, and the next, I’m intercepting her raised wrist—and that’s when she softened. Apologized. As I held her hand suspended midair, chest heaving, the moment was so charged with adrenaline and emotion that the scale we routinely balance together tipped us toward passion in the heat of the moment.
The first time we were intimate, she was as soft and pliant as a petal. Now, her nails maul at the back of my scalp like she’s trying to rip my hair out of my head. Her mouth moves feverishly against mine, her movements confident in a way they never were before. A part of me misses the way she used to allow me to take the lead, but this kiss is all hers, and I follow her off the deep end.
“Tell me you love me again,” she whispers between kisses, grabbing my waist and pushing me into the dark hall, guiding me backwards down the hallway.
“I love you,” I mumble against her mouth as we stumble toward her bedroom—because I do, and she’s deprived me of this for far too long. I don’t know what to do with my hands. They begin at her cheeks, then move to grip her waist, then move lower.
The backs of my knees collide with her bed, and she shoves me down onto it, and then she’s on top of me, straddling my waist. I can barely think through the fog of my desire, but then she’s lifting her arms into the air, taking her shirt with it—
My braincomes online again.
“Evie,” I warn, grabbing the hem of her shirt and pulling it back down. I sit up on my elbow and shift her off me, throwing my legs over the edge of the bed as I attempt to catch my breath.
“What?” she gasps, tipping my face up. Cradling my cheeks in her hands, her lips come down on mine again, harder this time. My lips part, and I groan into her mouth, more out of frustration than anything else, wondering how I’m going to summon the strength to tell her no when this is exactly what my flesh wants in this moment—to relieve the pressure that’s been mounting between us with a language that comes far more naturally to me than any other. I’m going to need supernatural help.
Jesus, not in my strength, but Yours. Please.
“What’s wrong?” Evie whispers when she sees I’ve stopped heeling to her advances. She sits back on her haunches and frowns at me in the dark.
“Evie,” I sigh, tugging on my hair as I shift away from her. “We can’t. This is wrong.”
Not to mention odd. She went from seeking to slap me to pulling me down onto her mattress within the space of a few minutes. She should be screaming that she hates me right now, not kissing me senseless while attempting to unbuckle my belt.
Her face hardens. “You told me you were in love with me.”
“I am,” I say, laughing humorlessly. “But this isn’t love. This is something else.”
Passion. Lust.
I know all about it.
She sniffs derisively and looks away. “I know you want to.”
“It’s not that I don’t want to,” I mutter gloomily, wiping a hand through my disheveled hair. “But make no mistake, Evie. If I’m ever lucky enough to make love to you again, my ring will be on your finger. No exceptions.”
She glares at me before pushing off the bed in a dramatic huff. She begins pacing the length of the room, and I watch warily as I recall how she paced anxiously around the powder room on her wedding day.
This lion is about to roar.
“Evie,” I temper, rising. “I would have thought you’d be more upset with me after what I told you. This”—I gesture to the bed behind me, then between us—“isn’t healthy—”
“You’re one to talk,” she snaps, halting to face me. “You think gaslighting me into believing everything I felt was one-sided is veryhealthy,Brandon?”
I flinch at the termgaslighting. But there’s no denying that that’s what I did.
I hate myself for it.
“Honestly, I don’t know what to think or feel anymore.” She throws her hands up when I remain silent. “Is this what you like?” she whispers brokenly, desperately searching my expression. “When I push you away? Because you justlovethe chase?” I grimace, insulted. “I don’t know what you want. I push you away, and you chase me. But when I stop running, you pushmeaway. It doesn’t make sense!”
“I’m not pushing you away,” I murmur, stalking closer. She shuffles back. “I’m just trying to understand what’s going on inside your mind because I love you, and I don’t want history to repeat itself.”
