His Plaything(42)

Nixon gestured back at me. She spared me an acid look and I held back the urge to flinch. “Because you owe her a personal apology.”

Her laugh sounded more like a shriek. “Me? Owe her? After you dropped me like a hot potato to go hump your own stepsister? Is her pussy made of gold or something, or do you just have an incest fetish?”

“Y-you knew we were together?” I croaked. Suddenly it all made sense. The only reason Pam would invent a tryst with Nixon was if she knew I was into him; otherwise, that kind of lie wouldn't hurt me. She had to have known…

“The whole damn time.” Her lip curled, utterly disgusted. “Whether or not I wanted to. Our units share a wall, remember? I could hear you fucking just about every night.”

“So slip a note under our door asking us to tone it down,” Nixon spat. “The slightest inconvenience doesn't give you a right to mess with other people's lives.”

“Yeah, I told one lie. I wanted to piss off Little Miss Perfect. So fucking what?” She threw up her red-taloned hands—not in surrender, but in challenge. “I'm not sorry. It's you people who're fucked up.”

“Don't you dare play the martyr here.” Nixon's voice had lowered into a snarl. “If you had even a shred of common decency—”

With a glare that could have turned us both to stone, Pam slammed the door in our faces.





Chapter 19

Nixon



I stormed back into our condo, barely able to hear Avery's trailing footsteps over the blood pounding in my ears. Confronting Pam had only enraged me more. I'd thought I could take revenge by rubbing her nose in her cruel, desperate lies, but it was impossible to shame the shameless. She was totally convinced that she was right and we were wrong. How could that bitch look me straight in the eye, bold as brass, and say I had no right to be angry? After the way she'd treated the most important person in my world?

Feeling Avery by my side, I turned to face her. She stared back at me like she had no idea what would happen next.

Her eyes kept darting down my sweaty, almost-bare body. I had seen her horny enough times to recognize that heat in her gaze. But she also looked ashamed, uncertain, maybe even afraid. Of me? Of us?

I didn't speak or touch her; I just watched her face until she was ready to voice whatever terrible question was weighing on her. I could only guess what was going through Avery's head right now. Every word of comfort or desire I could imagine seemed like the wrong thing to say. If I ruined this moment, it might be a long time before another arrived, and I couldn't stand any more waiting.

She swallowed hard. “Was … was Pam right? Are we disgusting?” Her eyes fell for good, all the way to the carpet. “Is what we did so wrong?”

“Oh … Avery. No. God, no.” I reached out, tucking the stray hair that had escaped from her ponytail behind her ear. “Did it ever feel wrong to you?” If she hated herself for sleeping with me, I wasn't sure I could handle that.

A long hesitation. “No,” she finally said, and I let go of the breath I hadn't known I'd been holding. “It felt right. It's … never felt so right before.”

Her words filled me with warmth. But all the temporary fun in the world wouldn't change what I had to do. In the long run, we still weren't compatible. Knowing how much she'd enjoyed being together only made it harder to let her go. Slowly I nodded, emotion roiling in my stomach.

She looked back up at me again—only for her shy smile to evaporate into concern. “What’s wrong?”

I guess I'm easier to read than I thought. As a delay tactic, I went to the fridge to get us each a bottle of water, taking a long drink while I figured out the best way to answer.

“Come on. If we're both okay with this, why have you been avoiding me?”

I sighed through my nose. “Because I talked to Logan last Sunday.”

“Right after our date?” She looked like she didn't know whether to laugh at me or blush in humiliation.

“Yeah. And it put a lot of things in perspective.” Shaking my head, I braced myself for the most painful part. “Logan is … so much better for you than me.”

She blinked, mouth slightly open. “Better for me? What does that mean?”

“Uh, well … ” I floundered for an explanation; I hadn't expected her to put up a fight about hard facts. “Isn't it obvious? Logan is stable. He wants to leave the SEALs. He wants to have an actual home life someday.”

She held up her hand. “No. Shut up.”

“All I meant was—”

“I said shut up.” Eyes sparking, she stepped close until she stood toe-to-toe with me. Five feet and two inches of pure indignation. “Didn't you hear anything I said on the beach? I'm not ready to be anyone's wife right now.”