Slow Burn (34 page)

The expression on Becks’s face reflects a man who’s gone nine rounds in the ring as my words punch him. I can see him try to process what I’ve just said, see him try to acknowledge it, but the acceptance never comes.

Our eyes don’t waver from each other’s as he steps forward and raises both hands to frame my face so that I’m unable to look away. “I don’t know what the hell is going on, Montgomery. I have no fucking clue. You want space? Fine, I’ll give you space, but don’t for one second think I’m buying the fact that you choose that douche bag over me.” He exhales a broken breath as he figures out the rest of what he wants to say. My heart thunders in my ears, and my own breath is just as uneven as his but for the opposite reason. “I’m going to leave right now. I’m going to walk out that door and give you some time to figure out whatever the shit is in your head, but I don’t want it mistaken for a single second that I’m walking away from you.” He squeezes his eyes shut momentarily before opening them back up and the clarity in them has me feeling like he’s seeing into my soul. “I don’t walk away from the people I love without a fight, and damn it to hell, Haddie Montgomery, you’d better prepare for that fight because I’m in love with you.”

My mouth drops open from his unexpected confession, and I can’t even try to wrap my head around it because Becks’s lips are on mine, clearly driven by the emotion of his statement. It’s a short but holy-mother-of-hell kiss that leaves me breathless when he drags his mouth from mine.

And when we separate, he doesn’t meet my eyes. He steps back and turns on his heel without another word, and walks into the house, slamming the front door behind him, the sound so loud, I hear it where I remain rooted in disbelieving shock.

The chills come, my body trembles with the truth just laid at my feet, and my heart tears in two from hurting him
and letting him walk away without making a concerted effort to fight for him.

I know I have a bigger fight ahead of me. A fight I don’t want to drag someone else through.

Holy fuck.

He loves me. The damn wildflower was right after all.

I’m not sure how long I sit out in the cocooning darkness and silence of the night, using the still to quiet the self-inflicted riot of emotions in my head before I shove myself up and move inside. I go through the motions of washing my glass, straightening up. I’m bending over, putting a bowl away in the lower cabinets when Dante’s voice startles me.

“Fuck me, Haddie. You can’t tempt a man like this and expect him to walk away without a taste. Or a fight.”

I scramble to stand up and shut the cabinet, my mind registering Dante’s words but thinking that Becks could be saying them just as easily to me. I flash my eyes up to find him leaning against the wall, his shirt off, a beer in one hand, and irritated disgust evident in his expression. The comebacks are firing through my brain, but I hold them back, trying to keep from fueling the temper I know he has when he drinks.

And a drunk Dante is an unpredictable Dante. This I know from experience, so I remain silent.

“So nice of you to finally come inside after your little
fuck
in the backyard,” he says, sarcasm dripping from his slurred words. “It seems to me you’re really walking on the wild side these days, babe.”

“Dante.” I nod my head, my voice even, and stand to full height when I finally speak to him.

“Dante,”
he mimics me with a laugh that’s anything but warm. “Really, babe? Gonna be all frigid with me when an hour ago you were being fucked in the backyard by
that guy
?” He walks toward me in an unsteady swagger, judgment in his eyes. “What happened to the wild child I used to know? The ‘throw caution to the wind, willing to screw
anytime and anywhere’ girl I dated? The one I matched dare for dare?” He stops, takes a sip, and chuckles. “You’re too good to settle, Haddie. A three-minute fuck in the backyard with that asshole tells me you are most definitely settling.”

“Fuck you.” The words are out of my mouth without a thought. How dare he come at me, telling me I’m settling when all I can think about is Becks: what I just did to him, how I hurt him, and the confession he left me with?

… you’d better prepare for that fight because I’m in love with you …

The pain is sharp and lingering, and then it registers that Dante was here when Becks and I were outside.

I was so wrapped up in everything that I never even thought about him coming home. All I could think about was pushing it all away, losing myself, and not once did I think about Dante. Being home. Having a spectator.

Fuck a duck
.

My eyes flash up to his, and he sees that I realize I had an audience when I was outside. “Yep.” He nods his head. “I came home in the middle of the action. Sorry, but no man is going to pass up watching a porno going on in his backyard.” He takes a step closer to me as my anger bristles from the invasion of my privacy.

Yes, I had sex outside, but it was in my backyard, and the only line of sight we were in was from my own house. If it was in any other capacity, I might actually be turned on from the idea of being watched, but Dante’s disdainful approach is making me ill at ease. I curse myself for my carelessness.

“Don’t worry. I didn’t watch for long. Just enough to remind me how fucking hot you are …” My teeth grit when he chuckles again. “Fuck, babe, you gave me a stellar visual. Do you have any clue how fucking hard that made me? A man’s gotta get off, and, God,” he groans as his free hand cups his crotch and adjusts himself, “I could really use the
help since you’re standing there like a goddamn vacant motel room waiting to get occupied.”

Is he fucking serious? I may be overwhelmed with everything, but I’m not stupid enough to fall for this. And as much as I hate his comment, I also welcome the fire it sparks inside of me.

Hell if I’m not looking for a good fight right now. Anything to occupy my mind and push away everything from the day.

Bring it on.

“Sorry, but this isn’t the Sleazy 8 Motel you’re used to. I don’t rent my room by the hour.”

“Oh, now, there you go, insulting me when you know damn fucking well that I last much more than an hour when I’m renting your room out.” He winks at me with a lopsided grin as he enters the kitchen and pulls another beer from the refrigerator. The hiss of the top coming off fills the silence between us.

“No vacancy. Not now. Not ever.” I quirk an eyebrow at him, knowing damn well our playful banter has the possibility of turning ugly real quick when it comes to Dante.

His grin is slow and arrogant, eyebrows raised, eyes taunting me. “Mm-mm-mm. We’ll just have to see about that,” he says, taking another step closer and concentrating on what to say next. “He doesn’t deserve you, Had. He isn’t what you need. Look how fast he bailed after he fucked you … or I should say, you fucked him. Man, you ride a mean cock.” He winks at me as he reaches down to adjust himself, and I watch him, study him, to try to see if he’s joking here or if asshole-I’ve-been-drinking Dante is about to make an appearance.

He lifts his beer to his lips and downs it in one long swallow, all the while his eyes remain on me. He sets the bottle down with force, the sound echoing through the room, before he closes the final space between us so that he’s standing well inside my personal space.

Warning bells ring softly in the back of my head, but I shake them off. I’ve been here with Dante before, know I can handle him. Nothing a swift knee to the crotch to prove a point can’t fix since he’s most likely drunk enough that his reflexes are delayed.

“Well, I’m glad I could provide this evening’s entertainment for you,” I say, trying to defuse the situation. And then I say to myself, “Fuck it.” He most definitely was an asshole for watching us, for taunting me over it. “It’s interesting, though, that you’re so full of criticism, and yet you hid inside, instead of coming out and proving just how much better you are than Becks. You tell me I’m not the same girl you used to know, but I’m thinking you’re not the same guy, either.” I love watching the irritation settle over his features as he tries not to react to my goading. “It’s called growing up, in case you haven’t reached that phase yet.”

I take a step to the right, but his hand flashes out and grips my upper arm. He steps into me, his alcohol-laced breath hitting the side of my cheek as I stare straight ahead instead of turning my head to meet his eyes.

“You have no business being with him.” He grates the words out.

“Well, here’s where you realize that I don’t give a flying fuck what you think. It’s none of your goddamn business how I live my life and what I’m doing. You lost that right when you walked out, leaving me high and dry. I thought we’d already established this fact, no?”

“It’s not my business, but it’s everyone else’s in the neighborhood’s who can hear you making him come in your backyard? C’mon, Had, I deserve better than that.” He presses his body up against mine, but unlike with Becks, I feel absolutely nothing.

“Let go.” I snap the words out, liking the predicament less and less by the moment. I try to shrug out of his grasp and find myself pushed against the wall with some force.

“Uh-uh,” he grunts from the motion, his face closing in
on mine again until his mouth is at my ear and his body is flanking mine. “Since you seem to be handing it out like it’s free, I might as well get my piece of your pie.”

Warning bells sound louder now, and I’m trying hard to keep the panic from reaching my eyes. But I’ve got my wits about me enough to know that I’m alone in my house with a man who can clearly overpower me, so as much as I want to make my move right now, I need to make sure I time it perfectly. The unease I feel tickling at the base of my neck tells me I might only get one shot at this.

“Have another beer and keep dreaming and it might happen in like … hmm …
never
.” I laugh at the words, trying to portray confidence that I don’t really have. I ignore his last comment, not wanting to get into any discussion about what he wants from me with our bodies pressed against each other’s.

“Oh, sweet Haddie,” he murmurs, causing my breath to hitch at Becks’s pet name for me. “What? It’s okay for him to call you that but not me?” He reaches up to trail a finger down my cheek. I fight the shiver of revulsion that courses through me from his unwanted and intrinsically intimate touch. “C’mon … let’s quit dancing around this—you leading me on, turning me on, kissing me, then pushing me away. I mean, shit, I’ve always appreciated a chick that’s hard to get, but it’s not like I haven’t had you before, right? So why the game, babe? Because I’m done playing it and ready to take what I came here for.”

His comment confuses me, until the myriad feelings inside me collide with one another, until they vaguely start to make sense to me. Startled, I drop my head back and meet his eyes for the first time when the realization hits me. Am I that fucking dumb? Have I been so preoccupied with Becks and then the test and the biopsy results that I didn’t see it all along? And then add to that that the few times Dante and I kissed I was unknowingly fanning the flames of his reason for coming back here: to get back together with me.

If he had shown up like this months ago, I probably would have brushed his mistakes under the rug and given him a second chance. But now—now there’s Becks. And whatever it is we are, I know it feels like it has the potential to be a hell of a lot stronger than what Dante and I were.

The sound of Dante sucking in his breath pulls me back to the present, where the expectant look on his face tells me he’s dead serious.

There will be no taking of anything from me unless it’s my fist in his face.

“Dante, I think it’s time for you to leave.” My pulse begins to pound in my ears now as he stares at me, jaw clenched, eyes boring into mine, and the muscles of his shoulders and neck rigid with tension. I watch indecision flicker through them as I try to keep my breath even and body language nondefensive.

“Just like that, huh?” The derision lacing his voice is almost tangible. “I think it’s only fair that I get a fighting chance. You’ve fucked him. Now, you’ll fuck me, and then you can make an educated decision as to who makes you come harder. Simple as that.”

I struggle with the right words to tell him he’s high as a kite if he thinks I’m having sex with him. Even if I’d wanted to, the oh so romantic way he just
informed
me I was going to fuck him would have had me locking down my crotch like a bank vault.

“You’ve got another think coming if you think that fancy line’s going to work on me, Teller.” I try to keep my warning light, joking, but I let him know I’m not game with his plan.

He laughs low and soft again, and there’s just enough edge to it that my throat constricts as I try to swallow. “I think you misunderstand me. I’m not asking you to fuck me. I’m telling you you’re going to. No one turns me down, least of all you….” His voice trails off as he digs his fingers a bit tighter on my arms and leans in so his lips brush over my ear. My nerves are invigorated by his words, my eyes flickering
over the room, looking at the dish on the table a few feet from me where my cell sits, beside a vase and my keys. “I’ve been more than patient as you’ve led me on, teased me, taunted me, all the while getting off with him. Well, now it’s my turn to have my say.”

“Well, if this is your way of
having your say
, you’re going about it all wrong, Dante. Thanks, but no, thanks.”

My well of emotions has run empty, and so I meet him stare for stare, refuse to back down because fuck if I’m going to let him push me around. He can take the first flight to hell before I’d willingly hop into bed with him.

His hand on my arm flexes as he attempts to deal with the rejection. He goes to speak and then stops, does it again, and then before I can react, his mouth is on mine.

I don’t even let the shock register before I’m shoving against him, my knee coming up and making contact. He grunts when I connect, his lips off mine as he doubles over in pain, the sound of his misery filling the house. I think I hear
son of a bitch
or maybe him calling me a bitch. I don’t know, and I don’t care because that pull of Dante Teller that’s always been irrefutable to me is no more.