Unattainable (Undeniable, #3)(41)

He glanced over at the shower and then back at himself. Fuck it, it was just a shower. He took Mexican showers all the time. Water, some soap, get all the important areas.

But when he turned on the water and stepped inside the tub, why did it feel like it was so much more than just a shower?

CHAPTER TWELVE


“Get off me,” I said, breathing hard and pushing without success against Cage’s chest. Fuck, was he made of concrete? What the hell?

“No,” he growled and when I turned away from his kiss, he took a nose dive into the crook of my neck. Before I could protest further, his tongue shot out and then suddenly he was licking and sucking and biting and then his hand was sliding down the side of my body and he was maneuvering himself slightly off of me and his hand was between my legs and his fingers were up inside of me and then I was too busy feeling like I was queen of the f*cking universe to care that his sweaty self was lying heavily on top of me or that my back was having serious doubts as to whether it could take another pounding on the uneven wood plank floor. As it was, I was pretty sure my ass had some pretty serious friction burns, but like every other coherent thought in my head, it was quickly flying off to never-never land, never to be heard from again.

Nothing had gone according to plan. At least, not by my plan.

First, Jase, the dumbass, had puked all over my mom’s car, then proceeded to pass out, leaving me unable to get him out of the car and into his house, forcing me to have to take him to the club instead. The club where, as my luck would have it, Cage just so happened to be.

And damn if that man didn’t look as good as a double bacon cheeseburger, after a week spent camping with my vegan friends.

Fuck my life.

Fuck it up, down, left, and right, f*ck it straight to heaven and back down to hell, and then f*ck it up the damn ass with Satan’s red-hot spiked tail.

The * was playing me. For some reason, maybe he wasn’t getting enough * lately, Cage had decided he liked f*cking me so much since last night that he’d done everything in his power to get me back to his house just so he could f*ck me some more.

Not that I was complaining, at least not at the moment. Earlier though, once I realized why he’d demanded on driving the car, that he had absolutely no intention of taking me back to my mother’s place, I complained quite a bit.

And once I realized that he’d taken me from the club back to his house, I complained even more. Yelled and screamed too. Called him all sorts of colorful names. I may have even tried to punch him a few times. But all of that had come quickly to an end when he dragged me, kicking and screaming, from the car and forcefully took me inside his house.

The next thing I knew, we were naked. At least we used a condom this time. Thank f*ck.

Oh God. Oh my God. That felt so damn good.

Everything he did—kissing me, touching me, f*cking me hard or slow—it didn’t matter. It all felt so perfect.

But now, even as I was grinding myself against his hand, f*cking his fingers as fast as my spent body could manage, I was back to yelling and screaming.

Only this time, only I could hear it.

I was silently screaming, berating, and hating myself for being so incredibly weak. All those years spent avoiding Cage, all those years spent avoiding my feelings, all those goddamn motherf*cking years.

And here I was again. Being played like a f*cking puppet.

It was if I’d never left Montana, never made a life for myself somewhere so far removed from the life. Like no time had passed since I was a sixteen-year-old loser staring up at Cage, thinking he was my whole f*cking world, telling him I loved him while he stared at me and said, “It ain’t like that for me, baby.”

No. No. No. Goddamn, no!

How did this happen? How had one weekend turned my entire life inside out?

“No,” I whispered, pushing at the side of Cage’s head, trying to dislodge him from my neck.

“Will you shut the f*ck up?” he said, lifting his head. “For two motherf*ckin’ seconds?”

“Get off me,” I demanded, pushing at his hard stomach.

“Teg—”

“Off,” I repeated tightly, clenching my jaw, trying desperately to build that wall back up. “You’re even dumber than I thought if you think I’m going to keep letting you treat me like a f*cking club whore.”

Cage’s confusion evaporated, turned instantly back to anger. His features pulled tight with irritation, his nostrils flaring.

“Fuck you, Tegen,” he growled. “You were right there with me, babe. You’re lyin’ to yourself if you’re thinkin’ you’re not wantin’ more.”

I glared at him. Sex. Sex, sex, sex. That’s all he was about; all he’d ever be about.

“No, I was not!” I snapped. “Now, get the FUCK off me!”

“FINE!” he roared, and then his weight was gone and he was on his feet.

The second he was off me, I rolled to my left and jumped to my feet. Snatching up my clothing, I quickly began to dress.

“Tegen.”

I didn’t turn around. “What?”

“Don’t do this,” he said quietly. “Don’t keep leavin’ like this. I can’t f*ckin’ stand it.”

My heart began to pound.

“Why do you care?” I whispered. “You don’t even know me anymore.”