Then I press my lying lips to her soft, warm, honest mouth, hating my weak, cowardly-self more and more, with each passing second.
Chapter Twenty
Mia
There’s something eating at Jordan. He thinks I don’t know, but I can see it in his eyes, and in the way his expression drops every time he thinks I’m not looking.
He’s been acting strange after the telephone call he took from his dad the other day.
At first I thought maybe they’d had a disagreement, but now I know it’s something more. And the paranoid, sadistic part of me is starting to think it’s something to do with me – that maybe, he’s changed his mind about us.
A part of me wishes he would just tell me so I would know either way.
I could ask him, but then I’m afraid what his answer will be. So like the masochist I am, I’m taking whatever he throws my way. Granted, he’s throwing a lot my way, but there’s still something off. I just wish I had more strength than I do. I wish I could just up and leave, and stop being so damn pathetic over a man, who I’m pretty sure doesn’t want me anymore.
And the worst thing is, I’ve realized I’m in love with him.
I know, right?
You think I would have learned my lesson by now.
And it’s not as if I can tell him how I feel, or that there’s any point. Not while he’s working himself away from me.
I just wish he didn’t know so much about me. It makes me feel vulnerable to him.
I know what I need to do – pack my things and move out of here, stay somewhere else. It just feels a little easier said than done at the moment.
I also need to grow a backbone and pay a visit to the last Anna Monroe on my list. It just feels a million times harder now I don’t have Jordan there to hold my hand.
I guess he really is what he told me he was in the beginning – unable to commit to a girl. And no matter how much wishing on my part for me to have been the one to change him – the signs are telling me otherwise.
Yes, he says he wants me. But each time he’s said that, he’s either been inside me, or well on his way to it. And I know better than anyone that a man will say things he doesn’t mean while he’s having sex with you.
Last night was no different. I’d woken up in the early hours of the morning to find Jordan gone from his bed, and in the space beside me, where he’d fallen asleep, was a sleeping Dozer, stretched out and snoring.
In the end, my curiosity and frustration won out. I’d searched the hotel to no success, then eventually found him sitting out on the boardwalk over the lake, drinking a beer…
I walked over and stood between his open legs, staring down at him. Jordan’s hands went around the back of my thighs, fingers gripping. His head rested against them, like it was hard for him to look at me.
I slid my fingers into his hair, silently begging him to talk to me … but wishing for only things I’d want to hear.
His hand slid up my leg and took hold of my hand. He tugged me down to sit between his legs. I rested my back against his chest, and he wrapped his arm around my middle while taking a drink of his beer.
“What you doing out here so late?” I asked, my words drifting out over the lake, disappearing into the night.
He nuzzled my neck, inhaling. “Couldn’t sleep.”
I took the beer from his hand, had a swig, then handed it back.
“What’s keeping you awake?”
He placed the bottle down beside him and let out a long breath. “Nothin’.”
Nothing!
Angry, tired, and completely pissed off with his lack of communication, I got to my feet.
“If you don’t want me anymore, Jordan – this whatever we have – then just say so! Just … please, stop … this!”
I swiveled on my heel and ran back to the hotel.
He caught up with me on the porch by the main door.
His hand closed the door I was opening. He came up behind me, pressing his chest to my back.
“I want you,” he said, rough, against my ear. “Don’t ever think for one fuckin’ second that I don’t. I want you more than I have ever wanted anyone.”
“So, why all this?” I was breathing heavy, feeling confused, my heart thundering in my chest.
“All of what?”
I turned, curling my hands around the door handle as I leaned back against it. “You, being different … distant with me … I know there’s something you’re keeping from me.”
His eyes closed as if he were in pain. “It’s nothing for you to worry about.”
I reached for his hand, curling my fingers around his. “I just want you to talk to me.” I tugged on his hand, trying to encourage speech.