“I love it when you do that,” she mumbled.
“What?” he asked as he finally managed to wedge in beside of her.
“Wash me. No one’s ever taken care of me like that,” she said softly before throwing a leg over his and collapsing on his chest.
He shifted until he had her cradled in his arms. He ran a hand idly through her dark tresses, rubbing her scalp soothingly. He didn’t know if she was asleep yet, but he couldn’t resist asking, “What happened at your parents’ tonight, baby?”
There was nothing but silence for at least a full minute, and then she sighed. “It was a setup. I didn’t find out until I was already there that Ella wasn’t invited. Instead, my ex-husband showed up shortly after I arrived. My mother is still determined that I go back to him, and she never misses an opportunity to throw us together.” When she hissed, “Ouch,” he realized that his hand had tightened painfully in her hair.
“Sorry, Angel,” he said as he forced himself to relax once again. He’d never even met the woman, but he wanted to strangle her meddling mother. Curious, he asked, “Why didn’t you just leave?”
Her finger drew circles on his chest, making his cock twitch to life. It was getting to the point that if she even looked in his direction, he was hard. He’d jacked off more in the last few days while thinking of her than he had in years. He was so distracted when she finally answered him that he had to ask her to repeat herself. “It’s always been easier to go with the flow and not rock the boat. Dad called it humoring her. Ella and I learned long ago that it was pointless to argue and that it just prolonged our misery if we did.”
Blowing out an exasperated breath, he said, “Angel—that’s not humoring her, that’s being subservient. Plus, you’re divorced now. Why in the world would she think it was okay for her to continue to invite your ex-husband over? If they have a close relationship, then she should see him when you aren’t there. Unless you want him back.” The words left a bitter taste in his mouth, and he fought the urge to get up and leave the room in a show of anger.
Her hand stilled, and he could feel her eyes on him in the dark. “What? No! Of course not. I was the one who left him. I mean, he said some things tonight that were surprising, and I’m flattered that he wants us to see a marriage counselor together—but it’s too late.”
Mark wondered if she was aware that the last part of her sentence sounded more like a question than a statement. So what did he do? Instead of being understanding and giving her the support that she no doubt needed after what she’d been through, he pushed her away and stood. Without saying a word, he made his way back through the dark apartment to the living room where their clothes were still lying in a pile. He dressed quickly and turned to find her standing just inches away. “I need to get home,” he forced out. He was angry with her, and he had no right to be. He was being a complete and utter asshole, and he knew it.
He wanted her to say something snide to justify him stomping off, but she simply said, “All right.” The part of him that wasn’t a bastard had him walking to her and dropping a kiss on her mouth. And that was it. He’d made the trip across town, had amazing sex, and then turned his back when things got complicated. It was his MO and what he did best. He got what he wanted and didn’t spare a thought for the woman afterward. Though as he got into his car and drove away, he knew that was no longer true. This time he’d taken off because he was shaken by the two things that were choking him—jealousy and fear.
For the first time in his life, he had something to lose. Why was he so scared to lose something that wasn’t his to begin with?
Chapter Thirteen
“He treated you like a booty call,” Mia snarled as soon as she had heard. “I don’t care how hot he is, the man is a dickhead.”
Gwen nodded solemnly, before taking a bite of her pizza. “I agree,” she managed to say around the food in her mouth.
Crystal grimaced and chanced a look at her boss, Lydia, across the table. She hadn’t intended to get into her night with Mark when she’d invited Lydia to lunch with them, but Mia as always had picked right up on her glum expression. “Maybe he’s one of those guys who can only sleep in his own bed,” Mia offered hopefully.
The truth was, she was beyond depressed over Mark’s hasty exit from her bedroom and her apartment. He’d run out as if his ass were on fire. And, even more strange, he’d seemed pissed. She could understand if he was angry on her behalf at her mother’s deception, but that wasn’t what it was. She’d felt like his anger was directed at her, and she couldn’t figure out why.