myself together, I had hugged him, then slipped to my bedroom, needing time to sort out my thoughts. I’d spent half an hour reorganizing my closet just so I’d have something to do, thinking about all the things that had happened as of late, but most importantly, about how I’d reacted to those things.
Gavin was right. Since my dad had died—hell, probably long before then—I’d been closing myself off. The thing that had happened with Adrian had been icing on the cake. And I’d used that as my force field.
Somehow, I’d managed to shut myself down even when I didn’t want to.
Like with Jake.
Something had been off with him tonight, and I knew I was the one to blame for that. From the day I’d met him, I’d wondered what his motives were, suspected he wasn’t on the up-and-up. But then, in the passing weeks, I’d realized he was a good guy. Even accepting that, I’d managed to keep distance between us, and I had to accept responsibility for my actions.
Still, I hadn’t been able to stick around knowing that he was angry with me. I’d seen it on his face, felt it in the way he’d nailed me to the couch. It had been phenomenal sex—angry sex was that way—no doubt about that, but it had been fueled by a different emotion than the other times. He’d been taking what he needed from me, the same as I’d done to him.
Which I completely deserved.
And that had been the reason I’d snuck out.
As for why I’d grabbed his notebook before I left, I wasn’t quite sure. He’d asked me to read the book, so I figured I owed him that much.
Only I wasn’t in the mood to read. So, after taking a shower and towel drying my hair, I went to the easel, picked up the charcoal pencils, and continued to work on the piece I’d started at the cabin.
It was a picture of Jake sitting out on the porch, lost in thought as he tapped his pen against his lip. I’d watched him like that for what seemed like hours, trapped somewhere inside his head, and I had never found him sexier than I had in those moments.
Oddly enough, it was translating into art, and I knew it was one of the best pieces I’d ever done, so I blocked everything out and focused on drawing.
Chapter Sixty-Seven
Jake
Because the urge to write had hit me, I knew I couldn’t ignore it. And I knew exactly where the story was going as I grabbed a spare legal pad, since Presley had taken the notebook, then slipped into my office, ready to hash out this thing with Kora and Donovan.
Perhaps I was ready to hash out the thing between Presley and me, but instead I decided to do something productive. If and when she ever wanted to figure out a way to fix this thing between us, I’d have to let her do that. She continued to confuse me with her actions, the back-and-forth, the disappearing acts. I wasn’t even sure what to expect from her anymore.
What had happened tonight… I knew that for the first time, instead of reality resembling fiction, it was the other way around. Perhaps I hadn’t known it before, but Kora and Donovan … what was happening between them … it was a lot like what was happening with me and Presley.
Without wanting to dwell on it a second longer, I put my pen to the paper and started to write.
Compromise?
Kora definitely didn’t like the sound of that.
What was there to compromise about? He was a man, she was a woman, the sex pleasure they’d indulged in earlier had been great off the charts, and she was more than willing to go another round with him.
But she damn sure didn’t intend to give him more than that.
Damn it. I needed her to give him more than that. Needed Kora to let go of everything and realize that this was right where she wanted to be.
Donovan’s hand cupped her face, his thumb brushing over her cheek, and Kora couldn’t look away, seeing a wealth of emotion in his eyes. Or was that just lust?
Yeah. That was what it had to be, because there was no way that Donovan could feel anything more for her than that. Hell, he didn’t even know her.
“Kora…”
Lifting an eyebrow, she realized she was leaning into his hand, still meeting his gaze.