possessive jerk on me.
Tingles sweep over my skin. This is one of those times I love it when he does that. “I didn’t think you’d ever say that to me again.”
“I didn’t give up on us that easily,” he says.
“You sort of did,” I point out, mentally telling myself to shut up. I don’t want to convince him we shouldn’t be together.
He crosses his arms. “Maybe we should take this slow.”
I approach him, my steps careful but sure. He’s still leaning against the door, his demeanor casual, but I can tell he’s coiled and tense. Ready for whatever I’m going to deliver, whether it’s good or bad.
“You want us to take it slow?” I ask, a little laugh escaping me when I stop directly in front of him. He’s so close, I can smell him. Feel his body heat radiate toward me. My body leans forward on instinct, like I have no control of myself. “Aren’t we passed that?”
“Maybe.” He tilts his head to the side. “I just thought maybe it would be smarter if we slowed our roll, you know?”
“Slowed our roll?” I’m frowning. It’s like he’s talking in a foreign language.
“It means we need to slow down. My dad always used to say it. But fuck that guy.” He waves a hand, dismissing his feelings, and I want to ask him why his father took his phone away, but I don’t.
“What about the girl giving you a lap dance at your party Saturday night?” I ask. I have to know. Who she was and if she means anything to him. He didn’t look disinterested.
“Oh damn, you saw that?” It gives me a sick pleasure to see the obvious discomfort appear on his face. “It was Josie. Josie Price. She’s on our cheer team. She’s a senior. She’s been chasing my dick for a long time.”
My stomach drops, and I suddenly feel nauseous. “Oh.”
“Yeah, oh. Don’t worry about her. Not interested. She was trying, but I told her about you.” His expression turns sheepish.
I’m shocked. “You told her about me?”
“Yeah. Uh. I told her I had a girl. I might’ve said some other stuff. I can’t remember.” He doesn’t say anything else, and I cling to those words. Cling to the fact that even though he was mad at me and he had some girl grinding her butt on his crotch, he mentioned me to her. She was trying her damnedest to get him to focus on her, and he talked about me.
“What about Wyatt?” he asks when I still haven’t said anything.
“What about him?”
“That douchebag was all over you at the dance.” His voice is full of disgust.
“He was not.” Talk about exaggerating.
“Was fucking too. I saw footage.”
“You’re completely overreacting.” I pause. “Is that why you sent that text?”
“What text?”
“Um, hold on.” I grab my phone out of the back pocket of my jeans and find the text, then read it out loud to him. “‘Hope you have fun at your stupid dance with that asshole who probably wouldn’t know where your clit is, even if you drew him a map with a giant lit-up arrow pointing to it.’”
“I said that?” He doesn’t seem embarrassed. If anything, he’s totally amused. “That’s funny.”
“You didn’t go back and read your texts to me?” I read them over and over again, driving myself crazy with his words.
“Like I said, my dad took my phone away and I sort of…yeah. Didn’t go back to our messages when I got the new phone because I didn’t want to make myself miserable,” he admits, then blows out a long breath.
Aww poor Eli. Doesn’t want to torture himself by yearning for me. I hope I tore his heart into tiny little pieces while he mourned the loss of me.
“You also said this.” I pause for only a moment before I launch into the next text message from him. “‘I’m a stupid fucker who knows exactly where your clit is, and how much you like it when I touch it. Don’t ever forget that. And don’t give Wyatt the map. Or your heart. That belongs to me.’” When I’m done, I lift my head to find him watching me with this dazed look on his face, his lips parted, his gaze locking with mine. “Did you mean it?”
“Meant every fucking word,” he says without hesitation. “And you do like it when I touch your clit.”
“Eli.”
“It’s true. Baby, what we had was real, and when we were together, we were the best. You can’t deny it,” he