Page 85 of Break Point
“Which one?” I taunt. “The one where you get caught lying?”
His jaw clenches, fury burning in his eyes.
“Take. Them. Off.” I say, each word a punch of frustration.
He snorts, shaking his head, but the flicker in his eyes isn’t just anger. It’s something else. Something closer to fear.
“If you’re not injured, let’s see that right shoulder you’veso cleverlykept concealed all these months then.”
“Bells, I’m not?—”
“You forget we live together, Henry,” I cut in before he can lie to me again. “And I know what living with a guy looks like.” Robbie’s always pulling his shirt off after his runs or gym workouts. He walks around the apartment shirtless after showering, cooling off before getting dressed. “So unless you’re self-conscious about your body, which I highly doubt that’s the case, you’re hiding something from me.”
“You’re insane if you think I’m getting undressed in your suite,” he says, his voice low and taut, like he’s bracing for impact.
“I’ve been told worse.”
“I hate it when you get like this,” he says, taking a sharp breath through his nose. “You’re impossible!”
“Then stop hiding shit from me!” My eyes widen, a silent plea for him to open up, to finally come clean. “It really is that simple,” I add, my voice barely above a whisper. Defeated.
Henry parts his mouth to speak when he’s interrupted by his buzzing phone. He pulls it out of his pocket, and the ID caller readsEvan King.
“That’s your cue to leave.” I point at the door.
“No.” He silences the call and shoves the phone back into his pocket. He’s going to drive me insane.
“Necio!” I groan, exasperated.
A chuckle slips past his lips, and that does it. He wants to laugh it off, act all cute, and distract me long enough to avoid the truth for a few more weeks until this bubbles up again.
No. Not this time.
It’s time to break the cycle. He needs to know how upsetting this is for me. And he needs to sit with that knowledge.
He’s not getting it. If words won’t work, maybe shock will.
I unzip my jacket, shrug it off my shoulders, and toss it aside. Next, I kick off my tennis shoes and socks, pull my tank top over my head, and let the clothes pile on the floor.
Henry’s smile vanishes.
Not the reaction I was going for.
His eyes darken, locked onto my every move. He’s looking at me like he’s finally allowing himself to feel everything he’s been holding back, and I like to think that, until now, he’s kept it all in. And as much as his hungry gaze sets my skin on fire, there’s nothing I can do with the feedback.
This isn’t about that.
This is my last attempt at making him leave, and I need to stayfocused.
Henry swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing.
“What the hell do you want from me, Belén?” His voice comes out low and rough, like his throat’s gone dry and he desperately needs a sip of water.
“I want you to leave,” I say, letting my tennis skirt fall tothe floor. I keep my voice cool, like he’s just another interruption in my day. “My bath will run cold.”
Wearing nothing but my sports bra and underwear, I’ve reached the limit of clothing I can take off. My plan here was to make Mr. Polite uncomfortable with my nakedness so he would leave, but it’s not working. He’s paralyzed, frozen in place. The only movement I catch is the rise and fall of his chest.
I need to coax him into action.
