The Guy on the Left (The Underdogs, #2)(36)

“Troy, I can’t go down this road with you.”

“Why not?” He whispers hoarsely. “You could forgive me. We could start over. We could have something real this time.”

Slowly I exhale, remembering the woman who drove toward his school with all the hopes in the world of starting something real.

“You can come back here and let me in. I’ll start with your lips, and then drop to your ankles. Work my way up—spread you, lick you, suck you, fuck you—make you come so hard. All you have to do is just let go, Clarissa, let me try. Give us a chance. I won’t touch you unless you agree.”

“We are nothing alike.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I’m with someone.”

“Break it off.”

“I’m happy with him.”

“Are you?”

I narrow my eyes across the small expanse of yard between us.

“Maybe he’s what you need, not what you want. What if I can give you both?”

“You assume too much and know nothing of my relationship.”

“Can’t be much of a relationship. He didn’t call or text once the whole time we were together tonight.”

“He’s busy, and we’re not exclusive. Not yet.”

“You know why guys don’t do exclusive at first, Clarissa? It’s because they aren’t at all serious about the relationship, but want all the benefits. You shouldn’t play into that. That’s fucking bullshit. You deserve so much better.”

“Says the guy who escorts a different coed out of his house every week.”

“It’s not all that often, and they aren’t you.”

I snort. “You can run lines all night, Jenner, I’m well versed in bullshit. Pretty words don’t work on me. Never have. If something happens, it’s because I want it to.”

“Believe it or not, I’m serious. If you were mine, I wouldn’t let an hour go by without proving it. Get back here and let me show you just how good we can be.”

“Troy—”

“Fine. Put the physical aside, it can wait. What if we do this right? Take our time. What if we work, what if we give Dante a real family?”

“Stop, okay, just stop. I’m with Brett. I’m hanging up.”

I end the call and see him hang his head before he disappears from the window. Gathering some clothes, I meet him at the door of my house. He’s angry, I can see it in the tick of his jaw as he takes them from me. “Thanks.”

“Troy, I’m sorry. I just don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“I get it. You don’t think I’m good enough. It’s fine.” He drops the towel, and I can clearly see he’s hard. My jaw goes slack as I drink him in. Long, thick, and fucking perfect. That’s the best way to describe him. His body is a solid wall of muscle, every part of him masculine and worthy of worship, but the pissed off expression on his face is the biggest turn on of all, no matter how wrong it is. And it’s because I can picture the sex with him, the grudge fucking, and it’s tempting.

Following my line of sight, he glances down at his cock and smirks. “At least you know the attraction is mutual.” His tone is anything but playful. I’ve hurt him by shooting him down. He tugs on new boxers and then pulls up his sweats before gathering his costume from the floor. Breathless, I stand in the middle of the room as he glances at me with contempt before shaking his head.

“And women wonder why I don’t jump into commitment. Why I make my intentions clear. It’s because of this look, it’s because of these looks I get. My mother looked at my dad the same way. Either they’re afraid I’ll hurt them or afraid I won’t ever measure up to the daydreams they have of happily fucking ever after. News flash, maybe I won’t, maybe I can’t. I’m not perfect, but neither are they, and neither are you. But it’s expected of me somehow. To do the right things, say the right things.” He pulls his shirt down over his taut abs and draws my eyes away with his tone. “You and I may not be going anywhere, but I’m staying put. I’m not leaving my son. And I hope you hear me.” He walks over to where I stand and commands my eyes. “You keep punishing me for something you won’t let me apologize for, for something you won’t ever let me make up to you.” He rakes his teeth across his bottom lip. “But I want to, Clarissa. Oh, how I want to.”

Swallowing, I stand mute while his emotions fly around me. Emotions he’s hidden well. “Fuck it,” he says in a tone filled with ice. “I’m under enough pressure. Thanks for saving me from more.” And with that, he shuts the door softly behind him, and I realize I’m still holding my breath.





Troy



My supervisor, Steven, nudges me and I pull out my earbuds.

“Sup?”

“You going to work through your whole break?” I look at the clock and see I’ve missed half of my lunch hour. “Shit. Thanks, man.” I stop my place on the line and sub out.

Making my way toward the break room, I check my phone to see a text from Clarissa.



Clarissa: Okay, don’t ever tell him I showed this to you.



It’s four in the morning and way too late to reply, but I take a seat at the table with a sandwich in hand and click play on the video she sent.