Page 87 of Bitter’s Sweet

“I didn’t ask if it was funny.”

I step back enough to give her space, though it takes every ounce of restraint not to pull her closer again. “I’ve said it before.”

She nods once.

Just once.

It feels worse than yelling.

“I’m not mad.”

“Looks like something.”

“I’m remembering.”

“Remembering what?”

“That you told me who you were.”

The words land like a fist.

I take another step back.

She slides off the counter and tugs her shirt down. Her cheeks are still flushed. Her mouth is swollen from mine.

She looks like every bad decision I ever wanted and the one good thing I’m not built to keep.

“I want you,” she says.

My whole body goes tight. “Sweet.”

“I’m not pretending I don’t. That would be stupid, and I already feel stupid enough today.”

“You ain’t stupid.”

“I know.” She says it softly but firm. “That’s why I’m stopping.”

I drag a hand over my mouth, tasting her there. “Stopping.”

“Yes.”

“Because of one dumb line?”

“No. Because of all of them.” Her eyes hold mine, bright and steady. “Because you’re good at this. You’re good at making a woman feel wanted. You’re good at heat and jokes and looking like you might burn the world down if somebody scares me. And I believe you would. I believe that part.”

My chest tightens. “But?”

“But I meant what I said.” Her voice trembles once, then steadies. “I don’t do just sex.”

The wall. Not cruel. Not cold. Hers.

I stare at her, breathing hard, body aching, temper rising for no damn reason except I want her and can’t have her on the only terms I understand.

“I never promised more.”

“I know.”

“You think stopping now makes me want you less?”