Ugly Love: A Novel(59)

A kiss is so much easier than what we’re doing. When you kiss, you can close your eyes. You can kiss away the thoughts. You can kiss away the pain, the doubt, the shame. When you close your eyes and kiss, you protect yourself from the vulnerability.

This isn’t us protecting ourselves.

This is confrontation. This is a standoff. This is eye-to-eye combat. This is a dare, from me to Miles, from Miles to me. I dare you to try to stop this, we’re both silently screaming.

His eyes remain focused on mine the entire time as he moves in and out of me. With each thrust, I hear his words from just a few short weeks ago repeat in my head.

It’s easy to confuse feelings and emotions for something they aren’t, especially when eye contact is involved.

I completely understand now. I understand so well I almost wish he’d close his eyes, because he’s more than likely not feeling what his eyes are showing me right now.

“You feel so good,” he whispers. The words fall into my mouth, forcing moans out of me in reciprocation. He lowers his right hand between us, placing pressure against me in a way that would normally cause my head to fall backward and my eyes to fall shut.

Not this time. I’m not backing down from this confrontation. Especially not when he’s staring straight into my eyes, defying his own words.

Even though I refuse to back down, I do let him know I like what he’s doing to me. I can’t help but let him know that, because I don’t have control over my voice right now. It’s possessed by a girl who thinks she wants this from him.

“Don’t stop,” my voice says, becoming more possessed by him the longer this continues.

“Wasn’t planning on it.”

He applies more pressure, both inside and outside me. He grabs my leg behind the knee and pulls it up between our chests, finding a slightly different angle to enter me. He holds my leg firmly against his shoulder and somehow thrusts into me even deeper.

“Miles. Oh, my God.” I moan his name and God’s name and even shout out to Jesus a couple of times. I begin to shudder beneath him, and I’m not sure which one of us broke down first, but we’re kissing now. We’re kissing as hard and as deep as his thrusts inside me.

He’s loud. I’m louder.

I’m shaking. He’s shaking harder.

He’s out of breath. I’m inhaling enough for both of us.

He pushes into me one final time and holds me firmly against the mattress with his weight. “Tate,” he says, moaning my name against my mouth as his body recovers from the tremors. “Fuck, Tate.” He slowly pulls out of me and presses his cheek against my chest. “Holy shit,” he breathes. “It’s so good. This. Us. So fucking good.”

“I know.”

He rolls onto his side and keeps his arm draped across me. We lie together quietly.

Me—not wanting to admit that I just let him use me again.

Him—not wanting to admit that it was more than just sex.

Both of us lying to ourselves.

“Where’s Corbin?” he asks.

“He’ll be home later tonight.”

He lifts his head and looks down at me, his brows furrowed in a line of worry. “I should go.” He rolls off the bed and pulls his jeans back on. “Come over later?”

I nod as I stand up and slide into my own jeans. “Grab my shirt from the kitchen,” I tell him. I pull on my bra and fasten it. He opens my bedroom door, but he doesn’t walk out. He pauses in the doorway. He’s looking at someone.

Shit.

I don’t have to see him to know that Corbin is standing there. I immediately rush to the door to stop whatever’s about to happen. When I hold it open further, Corbin is standing in his doorway across the hall, glaring at Miles.

I make the first move. “Corbin, before you say anything—”

He holds up his hand to shut me up. His eyes drop for a second to my bra, and he winces as if he was hoping that what he heard didn’t really happen. He looks away, and I immediately cover myself, embarrassed that he heard everything. He looks back at Miles, and his eyes are an equal mixture of anger and disappointment. “How long?”

“Don’t answer that, Miles,” I say. I just want him to leave. Corbin has no right to be questioning him like this. It’s ridiculous.

“A while,” Miles says, shamefully.

Corbin nods slowly, letting it sink in. “Do you love her?”

Miles and I look at each other. He looks back at Corbin as if he’s trying to decide which one of us he wants his answer to please.

I’m positive the slow shake of his head pleases neither of us.

“Are you at least planning to?” Corbin asks.

I continue to study Miles as if someone is asking him what the meaning of life is. I think I want his answer to Corbin’s question more than Corbin does.

Miles exhales and shakes his head again. “No,” he whispers.

No.

He’s not even planning to love me.

I knew his answer. I expected it. However, it still hurts like hell. The fact that he can’t even lie about it to save himself from disappointing Corbin proves that this isn’t some game he’s playing.

This is Miles. Miles isn’t capable of love. Not anymore, anyway.

Corbin grips the frame of his door and presses his forehead against his arm, inhaling a slow, steady breath. He looks back up at Miles with eyes like arrows aimed at a target. In all my life, I’ve never seen Corbin this angry.