Fueled(book two)(95)

I snort out in disgust. “A new concept for you no doubt, but yes.” I sigh. “I’m telling you no.”

He stares at me for a moment, his eyes narrowing and then his face softens into acknowledgment. “You have more restraint than me. I see what you’re trying to do here,” he murmurs, shaking his head, and for some reason I get the sense that he thinks I’m toying with him. That I’m telling him no, just to play hard to get.

“Sex isn’t going to fix things, Colton.” I huff at him, rubbing my hands up and down my arms to ward off the chill.

“It might just a little bit,” he jokes, trying to get a smile out of me. While I continue to glare at him, shaking my head and sighing deeply, he mutters a curse and walks away from me a few steps. He brings a hand to his neck and pulls down while angling his head up to the night sky and exhaling loudly. “Shit!” he mutters before falling silent for a beat. “I can’t change my past, Rylee. I am who I am and I can’t change that. You knew that going into this when you started all your goddamn talk about not being able to accept the only thing I can give you.”

“What? So now we’re back to that? An arrangement? I’m not one of your whores, Colton. Never have been. Never will be.” My voice cuts through the silence of the night around us.

He steps back toward me, lowering his head and looking at the ground in front of him, his jaw clenching as he finds his next words. When he finally speaks, his voice is unbending. “I told you I’d f*ck this up.”

His words—his excuse—followed on the heels of everything tonight, enrage me. “Don’t be such a martyr!” I shout at him. “Grow the f*ck up and quit using your so-called goddamn defense mechanism as an excuse, Colton!” The words are out before I can stop them, anger overriding common sense. He snaps his head up, his eyes blazing with anger as they meet mine. He takes a step back from me, the physical distance just emphasizing the emotional detachment I can sense happening. I know I’m probably overreacting. But that knowledge does nothing to stop the freight train of emotions running through me. “Fuck. This,” I mutter. “If you’ve had your way with me and don’t want me anymore…if you want one of your cookie cutter blondes inside…then man-up and just tell me!”

He says nothing to me, just sits there, jaw clenched, shoulders tense, and eyes staring at me, a mixture of reactions crossing his shadowed face. I’m not sure what I expect him to say, but I’d hoped that he’d at least say something. I thought that maybe he’d put up a fight to keep me with him, to prove to me that I’m worth it.

I guess if I’m going to make ultimatums than I’d better be prepared to stand by them. Fear snakes down my spine when he doesn’t utter a sound. I stare at him, willing him to speak. To prove my words wrong. To prove them right. Anything.

But he says nothing. Just a shell of a man staring at me with eyes emotionless, lips silent, and patience wearing thin.

Anger fills me. Hurt consumes me. Regret weighs heavy. I knew this was going to happen. He predicted it, and I ignored it. I thought I was enough to change the outcome. “You know what, Colton? Screw you!” I yell, the only words I can verbalize to portray how I feel. Not very intelligent sounding, but it’s all I have. “Just tell me one thing before you walk away and move on to the next willing candidate…besides the obvious, what does screwing all of these women do for you, Ace?” I step closer to him, wanting to see the reaction in his eyes, needing to see some type of response from him. “What need does it fulfill that you refuse to acknowledge? Don’t you want more? Deserve more out of that connection than just a warm body and a fleeting orgasm?” When he doesn’t respond but rather has irritation flash across his face, I continue. “Fine, don’t answer that question…but answer this one: Don’t you think that I deserve more?”