Stroke It - Brooke Page Page 0,71
he turned to face me, ignoring my question. “I’m done with this, you need to go.”
I tilted my head. “You don’t mean that.”
He glared at me. “I told you, I can’t do this anymore. I can’t keep sleeping with you while you’re with someone else, especially a guy you’re afraid of, a guy who, when you’re with him, makes me terrified he’s going to hurt you or force you to do something you’ll regret.”
“He won’t hurt me,” I assured, although I would be lying if I said I completely trusted him. His anger had gotten worse the longer we’d been together, but he hadn’t laid a hand on me, not intentionally.
He stormed toward me standing with a foot between us. “No, he’ll just punch dudes at the bar.”
I rolled my eyes. “How many times do I have to apologize for that?”
“That’s not the point,” he said harshly. “Do you love him?”
“What?”
He bounced in place, on the edge and fidgety. “Do. You. Love. Him?”
I bit my bottom lip. I was supposed to love him, I had been dating him for over three years.
“Of course I do.”
He shook his head. “I don’t believe you.”
I hugged myself, preparing to argue, but he went off before I could get a word out.
“You don’t love him. I see your face when he calls or sends you messages. You look miserable, like he steals your soul the moment you read it’s his name.”
I held my hand up, wanting him to stop, but he wouldn’t.
“Does he even make you smile? Does he really give a shit about you? How many chicks has he fucked while you’ve been, so called, dating?”
“Don’t,” I warned, but he didn’t listen.
“I bet he has a different bitch in every city he stops at, because I used to. I’d screw random chicks in every fucking city. They’d line up to fuck me, and they still do.”
“Yeah, I know,” I muttered, recalling how they’d scream his name and flash their boobs at him, begging to blow him. It got under my skin as much as when he would torment me with his teasing.
“Oh, so it does bother you when other women throw themselves at me?”
I ground my teeth, not wanting to admit that I had become unintentionally possessive.
“That’s what I thought,” he said smugly, pulling a hoodie over his head. “You should go back to your room. I’ve got plans.”
“Fine,” I choked, wiping under my eyes.
In a hurry, he grabbed my purse and flung the door open, holding his arm out to dismiss me. My insides were tearing apart from his abrupt and unexpected confession. I stormed to him, a tingling in my arm tempting me to slap him as I walked by, but his ticking jaw and icy eyes stopped me.
A torturous burn formed in my chest, and although I was furious with his tantrum, I understood. He didn’t want to let on that he’d been fighting real feelings toward me. Jet Ryder didn’t get attached, didn’t show vulnerability, but in that bed, he was pouring his heart out to me, making love to me slowly, clinging to me as if it were going to be the last time.
This was his way of giving me an ultimatum.
Facing him, I tentatively set my hand along his jaw. His eyes fluttered some, and for a fraction of a second, his clenched teeth eased from my touch. “I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I wish I knew how I could fix this.”
“It’s not that hard of a fix, Regs. Don’t be with someone who doesn’t treat you how you should be treated.” He watched me for a moment, then diverted his eyes to the hallway, tilting his head so my hand would fall from his cheek.
I snatched my purse from him and walked away, his door nearly hitting my ankles when he slammed it closed.
Choking back tears, I passed the few rooms between us, digging through my purse for the room key.
“I know he’s shitty at showing it, but he does care about you,” Chase’s deep southern drawl rang from down the hall. He was holding an ice bucket and a bottle of champagne. Had he picked up a girl to bring back to his room while Jet and I were together? Was that what Jet was planning on doing?
Swallowing the lump that was forming in my throat, I held my hand out to keep my room door open. “I know,” I said softly. “I just don’t know how to make it work.”
Chase chuckled. “You have the same