Mercy (Salacious Players Club, #4)(60)

“I fucked up,” he mumbles.

“What do you mean you fucked up? Weren’t you taking Sophie out for ice cream?”

“I did. Her boyfriend was there with another girl.”

As I rest the wet cloth against the bloody gash on his face, he winces. “Tell me you didn’t start a fight with a teenager.”

He doesn’t reply, only grimaces. There is remorse dripping from his expression as he stares at the ground.

“Oh my God, Beau. Is he okay?” I ask.

“I didn’t even get a punch in. I was just…so mad at him. I hated him.”

“Well, you care about Sophie a lot, but you can’t beat up every guy who breaks her heart.”

His sullen eyes lift to my face, and my heart skips in my chest. The vulnerability he’s expressing, the pain, fear, anger, all of it, is somehow as beautiful as much as it is haunting.

“I’m no better than him.” His expression is pleading, and I hate to hear him talk about himself like this. I hate it. So I turn my back and head toward the freezer for ice.

“No, you’re not. Don’t say that,” I reply with my back turned. As I pile ice cubes in the towel, I hear him standing up from the stool and walking toward me.

“Yes, I am, Maggie. I’ve cheated on almost every girl I’ve been with. I cheated on Charlie twice and she only knows about one. I fucked the other girl and Charlie in the same fucking day.”

My hand freezes in the ice bin as his words impale me with fear. Every perfect vision I have of him and any future we may have had evaporates into thin air.

I feel so stupid.

When I turn toward him, ice in my hand, I can’t hide the contempt on my face. I don’t know what to say. I don’t know why he is telling me this or what I’m supposed to do with this information. Does he want me to regret opening my heart to a selfish twenty-two-year-old man? Because at the moment, I do.

“That’s terrible, Beau,” I whisper.

“I know,” he replies, moisture springing to his eyes, “I’ve been trying to tell you this. I’m terrible. I don’t respect any of the women I’m with—I just want to hurt them. I fuck it up every single fucking time. You don’t have to hate me. I hate myself enough.”

“Don’t say that. I don’t hate you. I could never hate you.”

“I get the slightest attention from a woman and I don’t care who I hurt to get it. I don’t care about anyone but myself. Sooner or later, I’ll cheat on you too.”

I shake my head, trying to press the ice pack to his forehead. I just want him to stop talking, stop trying to convince me that I shouldn’t care about him. It’s not working. It’s alarming how much it’s not working, because everything Beau is saying should have me pushing him out the door, out of my life, out of my heart. But I’m not. The more he deprives himself of love, the more I want to make up for it.

“No, you won’t.”

“Yes.” He grabs my hand and stares into my eyes. “Yes, I will. I will find a way to fuck this up too. It doesn’t matter how much I care about you or how this is the best relationship I’ve ever been in. The second I get a chance to sabotage it, I will.”

“Stop it,” I snap, trying to put the ice against his face again. Emotion is building behind my eyes, and I’m holding back the urge to cry, scream, kiss him, and hit him, all at the same time.

He swats my hand away as I try to tend to his wound. “Punish me.”

“What?” I ask, staring up at him in confusion.

“I don’t want this tenderness, this affection. I want you to punish me.”

I lift the ice to his head again. “That’s not how it works, Beau.”

“I don’t care. It’s the only thing that makes me feel better.”

I shake my head as I step away from him. “I don’t want to, and what I want matters.”

“You’d deprive me of what I need?”

“This isn’t what you need,” I reply. “This is about trying to purge your sins with punishment that will not make any of it go away. This isn’t a game, Beau. If you want to feel better about what you’ve done, try apologizing.”

“Fuck this,” he mutters angrily as he spins away from me. “I thought you understood me. I thought you wanted to help me.”

I grab his arm, stopping him before he can rush out the door. “I do, but not like this.”

“Why?” he replies, turning toward me in desperation.

“Because I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I’m literally asking you to,” he pleads with his hands to his chest.

“I’m not ready, and I won’t risk it.”

“I have a safe word, remember? If it’s too much, I’ll use it.”

I shake my head again. “I said no. And I meant it.”

The look of contempt on his face sends chills down my spine. I’ve never seen so much displeasure in his eyes before and to be on the receiving end of it literally makes me want to crumble.

“Then, you’re a shitty fucking Domme. This was all about fucking a young hot guy for you, wasn’t it? You’re so fucking dense, Maggie. You think trying to see the best in me will make me want to be good for you, but you’re fucking stupid to think that.”