Fueled(book two)(54)

“I’m waiting,” he says, keeping his hand on my arm but stepping around to block my path toward the car.

“I was buying myself a drink. That’s it. Big f*cking deal!” I jerk my arm out of his grasp, fatigue from the night’s events suddenly hitting me like a bat to the back of the head.

Colton’s eyes bore into mine as if he’s looking for my betrayal or confession of wrongdoing. “There was plenty of alcohol up top. Was that not good enough for you?” he taunts. “You had to go trolling for a guy to buy you one?”

His words slap at me, knock the wind from my sails. What the f*ck is his problem? I can’t believe that he’d even think that first of all, but second—and shockingly so—I’m surprised by the quiver in his voice that hints at a touch of insecurity.

Like I could want something more after having him.

I take a step toward him, my voice low but implacable. “I don’t need a man or bottle service to make me happy, Colton.”

He arches an eyebrow at me. “Uh-huh.” He snorts derisively, cleary choosing to not believe me. He’s obviously dated some choice women.

I sigh, frustrated already with our conversation. “You’ve spent enough money on tonight. On me. On everything.” I huff. “You may be used to all of your women needing that to be satisfied. Not me.”

“Of course not.” He snorts sarcastically.

“I’m a big girl.” I continue ignoring his flippant comment. “I can buy my own damn drinks and pay my own way, especially if when you pay it means that you have some kind of ownership over me.”

His eyes widen at my words. “You’re being ridiculous.”

Does he not realize he does this? That he gives so charitably in exchange for people to like and love him? “Look, you’re a very generous guy. More so than most people I know, but why?” I place my hand on his arm and squeeze. “Unlike most people in there, I don’t expect you to pay my way.”

“No girlfr—no one I’m with pays when they’re with me.”

“That’s very chivalrous of you.” I run my hand up his arm and lay it on his cheek, my voice softening, relieved that we have seemed to skirt around having this argument. “But I don’t need any of that pomp and circumstance to want to be with you.” He just stares at me, emerald irises trying to comprehend the honesty in my words. “You have so much more to give to someone than material excess.”

I think my words have hit their mark because Colton falls silent, a war of emotions flowing through his eyes before they break from mine and look out at the city of sin. The muscle in his jaw tics as he pushes down whatever demons he’s fighting internally. I notice his posture stiffen as he shakes my hand off his face, and I can sense his discomfort with the direction our conversation has taken. “You let a guy put his hands on you,” he says in a dangerously quiet voice.

At first I’m hurt by his accusation, but when I look in his eyes, I see it. I see the truth behind Beckett’s revelations about his feelings for me. I see that he’s scared by it and unsure of how to handle it. I see that he’s looking for a reason to pick a fight as a way to deny his feelings.

He wants a fight? I’ll give him a fight because just below my surface is the fear that maybe I’m just what he needs and he might never acknowledge it. That he is exactly what I need and someone like Cassandra just might take that chance away from me. My mind flashes back to the thought of her hands on him. “And your point is what?” I counter with more confidence than I feel. “I’m not going to apologize because someone else finds me attractive.” I shrug. “You sure as hell weren’t paying any attention to me.”