Crashed (Entangled Indulgence)(57)

Had he kept Emily on the sidelines all along?

She shook her head. If she believed that, she was no better than Deke, with his mistrust and accusations. There had to be a reasonable explanation, didn’t there?

God, she wanted to believe that, so much, but that old fear—the sting of his rejection when he’d left her for Emily—lurked below the surface, making it hard to think clearly.

All of a sudden she was suffocating. Every breath seemed to scald her throat, her lungs shrinking in her chest with each painful breath. She threw the shirt back in the trash and bolted from the bathroom.

“Alex?” Deacon called after her.

“I need to get back to work.” He came after her, grabbed her arms, and stupid hope fluttered through her belly. She turned to face him but couldn’t read the expression on his face.

“Don’t run away from me, Alex. Not again.”

“I have to go.” She tried to pull free, but he held on tight. “Let me go.” She barely recognized her own voice, so broken, so damn pathetic.

He winced a second before his expression closed down completely.

Then he did what she asked—he released her, stepped back, and let her walk out the door.





Chapter Eighteen

Deacon gripped the steering wheel tight enough to make it groan as he pulled into the parking garage under his apartment building. After an afternoon spent explaining to his goddamn lawyer why he’d broken that bastard’s nose, his shitty mood still hadn’t improved. The asshole would more than likely sue.

It was worth it.

At the end of the day, it was only money. And that bastard more than deserved what he’d gotten.

He still didn’t know what had come over him. He’d lost it. In his surprise at seeing Alex there, then the way the guy had crowded her, put his hands on her. Like an idiot, he’d immediately thought the worst. His default after Emily’s deceit, her cheating. The way his mother had done the same to his father.

Trusting another person, even Alex, didn’t come easily. But she hadn’t deserved his rancor, his accusations.

Don’t tell me you care for your little whore, Deacon?

Jesus. He’d frozen when she’d fired those pain-filled words at him. The realization of what he’d done, what he’d accused her of when he knew better, knew she would never do that to him, had hit hard.

She’d called herself a whore. He’d made her feel that way. She doubted his feelings for her. Had no clue how he felt. That knowledge had rendered him speechless. And so fucking ashamed of the way he’d treated her, the things he’d said. Buried in his own petty jealousy, he had struggled with what he could possibly do or say to make it right.

So he’d done fucking nothing.

He’d messed up.

God, her face—he’d literally seen her pulling away from him, shutting down, and he’d imploded. Too many emotions warring to take front and center. In the end, he’d been unable to convey anything but anger. Furious with that asshole, and furious with himself for causing her to doubt her feelings for him, feelings she hadn’t been able to hide the night before when he’d made love to her.

But what pissed him off most of all was that he’d allowed his past to get in the way of what he could have with Alex. Instead of helping her work through her fears, he’d allowed his own, his fear of losing her, to take over. He’d messed things up. Again.

So much so, he’d managed to obliterate any progress he’d made with her, the trust he’d worked so hard to gain.

And she’d run from him.

He slammed his hands down on the steering wheel and shoved the door open. Screw it. He was supposed to attend a business meeting tonight with Alex, but he’d cancel. He needed time with her alone, to try to repair the damage he’d done.

Did she truly believe he saw her as nothing but a whore? Jesus, the idea made him ill. Yeah, he’d told her the agreement between them would only ever be physical, but that was so he could make her accept the truth, accept the way they felt about each other. Without expectations, without letting her fear of attachment get in the way. He shoved his hands in his hair. But it wasn’t her issues threatening to destroy their relationship before it began. It was him. His petty jealousy. His possessiveness. His inability to trust.

The two women in his life he should have been able to count on most, his mother and his wife, had lied and cheated. And he was now realizing the full effect those betrayals had had on him. How it had messed him up. That because of it, he didn’t trust his own damn judgment, when he knew Alex would never do that to him.

If he didn’t sort his shit out, he’d ruin everything. He’d lose Alex for good.