CHAPTER TWELVE
Mal disappeared as soon as we got home. David stomped up the stairs to our bedroom. Was it really ours? I didn’t have a clue. But I followed. He turned and faced me as soon as I entered the room. His expression was fierce, dark brows down and his mouth a hard line. “You call that giving us a chance?”
Whoa. I licked my lips, giving myself a moment. “I call it going out to pick up some food. The kitchen was running late so we got a beer. We liked the music so we decided to get up to dance for a couple of songs. Nothing more.”
“He was all over you.”
“I was about to knee him in the balls.”
“You left without a fucking word!” he shouted.
“Don’t yell at me,” I said, searching for a calm I didn’t have in me just then. “I left you a note in the kitchen.”
He shoved his hands through his hair, visibly fighting for calm. “I didn’t see it. Why didn’t you come talk to me?”
“The red light was on. You were recording and I didn’t want to disturb you. We weren’t supposed to be gone for long.”
Bruised face furious, he walked a few steps away then turned and marched back. No calmer from what I could tell despite the pacing. But at least he seemed to be trying. His temper was the third person in the room and it took up all the damn space. “I was worried. You didn’t even have your phone on you, I found it on the fucking table. Pam’s phone kept ringing out.”
“I’m sorry you were worried.” I held out my hands, out of excuses for both of us. “I forgot to charge my phone. It happens sometimes. I’ll try to be more careful in future. But David, nothing was going on. I’m allowed to leave the house.”
“Fuck. I know that. I just …”
“You’re doing your thing, and that’s great.”
“This was some sort of fucking punishment?” He forced the hard words out through gritted teeth. “Is that it?”
“No. Of course not,” I sighed. Quietly.
“So you weren’t trying to get picked up?”
“I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that.” Slapping him upside the head wasn’t out of the question. I kept my clenched fists safely at my side, resisting the urge.
“Why’d you let him touch you?”
“I didn’t. I asked him to move back and he refused. That’s when you arrived.” I rubbed at my mouth with my fingers, fast running out of patience. “We’re just going around in circles here. Maybe we should talk about this later when you’ve had a chance to calm down.”
Hands shaking, I turned toward the door.
“You’re leaving? Fucking perfect.” He threw himself back onto the bed. Laughter wholly lacking in humor came out of his mouth. “So much for us sticking together.”
“What? No. I don’t want to fight with you, David. I’m going downstairs before we start saying things we don’t mean. That’s all.”
“Go,” he said, his voice harsh. “I fucking knew you would.”
“God,” I growled, turning back to face him. The desire to scream and shout at him, to try to make some sense of this, boiled over inside of me. “Are you even listening to me? Are you hearing me at all? I’m not leaving you. Where is this coming from?”
He didn’t answer, just stared at me, eyes accusing. It made no sense.
I almost tripped getting back to him, my feet fumbling. Landing on my face would be perfect. It was exactly where this was heading. I didn’t even understand what we were fighting about anymore, if I ever had.
“Who are you comparing me to here?” I asked, every bit as angry as him now. “Because I am not her.”
He kept right on glaring at me.
“Well?”
His lips stayed shut and my frustration and fury skyrocketed. I wanted to grab him and shake him apart. Make him admit to something, anything. Make him tell me what the hell was really going on.
I crawled onto the bed, getting in his face. “David, talk to me!”
Nothing.
Fine.
I pushed back with trembling legs and tried to clamber off the mattress. He grabbed at my arms, trying to hold on. And like fuck he was. I pushed back hard. All brawling limbs, we tumbled off the bed and rolled onto the floor. His back hit the hardwood floor. Immediately, he rolled us again, putting me on the bottom. My blood pounded behind my ears. I kicked and pushed and wrestled him with all the hurt he’d inspired. Before he could get his bearings I rolled us again, regaining the uppermost position. He couldn’t stop me, the bastard. Escape was imminent.
But it didn’t happen.
David grabbed my face in both hands and mashed his lips to mine, kissing the stuffing out of me. I opened my mouth and his tongue slipped in. The kiss was rough and wet. Breathing was an issue. We both had anger management issues and neither of us entirely refrained from biting. With his bruised mouth, he definitely had the most to lose. It wasn’t long before the metallic taste of blood hit my tongue.
He pulled back with a hiss, fresh blood on his swollen top lip. “Fuck.”
He grabbed my hands. I didn’t make it easy on him, struggling for all I was worth. But he was stronger. He pinned them to the floor above my head with relative ease. The press of his hard-on between my legs felt exquisite, insane. And the more I bucked against him the better it got. Adrenaline had already been pouring through me, amping me up. The need to have him sat just below the surface, prickling my skin, making me hyperaware of everything.
So this was angry sex. I couldn’t bring myself to hurt him, not really. But there were other ways to assert myself in this situation. He came back to my mouth and I nipped him again in warning.
A mad smile appeared on his face. It probably matched my own. We were both panting, fighting for air. Both as stubborn as hell. Without another word he released my wrists and drew back. Quickly, he grabbed my waist and turned me over, pulling me up onto my elbows and knees. Arranging me how he wanted me. Rough hands tore at the button and zip on my jeans. He yanked down my denim and crazily overpriced thong, body poised over mine.
His hands smoothed over my ass. Teeth dragged over the sensitive skin of one cheek, just above the tattoo of his name. A hand slipped beneath to cup my sex. The press of his fingers against me had me seeing stars. When they started stroking me, working me higher, I couldn’t hold back my moan. He nipped me on the rump, a sharp sting of sensation. Then he pressed kisses up my spine. Stubble from his chin scratched my shoulder.
The lack of words, the absolute silence apart from our heavy breathing made it more. It made it different.
One finger slid inside me. Not nearly enough, damn it. He slid in a second finger, stretching me a little. Once, twice he slowly pumped it into me. I pushed back against his hand, needing more. Next came the sound of the bedside drawer sliding open as he searched for a condom. His fingers slid out of me and the loss was excruciating. I heard his zipper being lowered, the rustle of clothes and the crinkle of a condom wrapper. Then his cock pressed against me, rubbing over my opening. He pushed in slow and steady, filling me up until there was nothing left that wasn’t me and him. For a moment he stopped, letting me adjust.
But not for long.