Broken and Screwed 2 (BS #2)

He flinched now. “I didn’t—”

“You did!” I took two long steps and shoved at him. The small ball of control in me snapped. I kept shoving at him. “Ethan died and a week later you took my virginity. You never called me after that. You never called at all. You f**ked me and you walked past me at school. You didn’t even look at me, you ass**le. You just walked away.”

The pain was agonizing. I wanted to bend over, maybe that would ease it. I pushed past it, so much damn hurt blazing inside of me. I reared back to shove him again, but he caught my hands. Trapping them against his chest, he turned so I was pushed against the car. Then he crowded me in, his thighs on either side of me and his chest was pressed against me. I tried to shove him back, but the fight was leaving me.

An image of that day was on repeat, playing over and over again in my head.

We were in the hallway. Angie had been talking to me and I looked up. He was there with two of his buddies. I opened my mouth to call out to him, but he went past. I was air for him to walk through, a ghost that he couldn’t see. He made me feel like that for the rest of the year until Ethan’s birthday.

The fight suddenly left me. I was weaker because of it.

He came to me the second time. His touch made me alive. I’d been starving for it. I continued to hunger for him until the next summer, until the anniversary of Ethan’s death. Jesse found me again. Then again in August. He came to me. And again. And again. He kept coming for me, but I hadn’t been the only girl. He told me there’d been others and I had heard about the ones in high school. He told me about the ones during his freshman year at Grant West.

I couldn’t handle that, not again.

“Hey.” He captured the side of my head and lifted up. “I’m sorry. I was a mess that first year.”

“So was I,” I said.

“I know.” His chest lifted up and down. “Shit, I know. I’m sorry.” Pressing a soft kiss to my forehead, he moved to my eye and pressed another one. The other eye got a kiss, then my nose, then both sides of my cheeks. He lingered above my mouth, whispering against them, “I was trying to do the right thing. I was trying to stay away from you.”

My heart clenched. I couldn’t believe him. It’d hurt so damn worse if I did…

His lips moved against mine. “Your friend was right. I wouldn’t have been a good boyfriend. I was hurting. I was stupid. I was an ass**le. You’re right about all of that, but it wasn’t because I didn’t care. I did care. I cared too much.” His hand pressed against my hip as he ground into me. He began to breathe heavily. “I still do. Only you can reduce me to this.”

“To what?” I asked, my breath held in my throat. My heart was a continuous pounding now. I wondered if he could feel it. I could feel his. It was racing.

A dry chuckle left him. “To trapping you here. You make me crazy. You might not know it, but you do.”

Hope kindled in me. It was starting to build. I couldn’t let it so I shook my head. “Stop, Jesse. We should stop this before it gets worse.”

“Worse?” He cupped the back of my head and pulled away. His eyes held mine, searing into me. “I tried to give you space. I did. I stayed away from you after Vegas. I was tempted not to get a new phone, then I would have to leave you alone. But you came here and all I wanted was to see you every single night.”

I closed my eyes. The hope had mingled with another emotion, one I didn’t dare let myself feel. It was too dangerous. “Stop, Jesse.”

“No.”

“It can’t get worse than that. I’m not trying to be crude, but my dick’s been twitching since I heard your voice on the phone. I’ve been hard for six f**king days.”

Everything went flat for me. “That’s what this is about?”

“What?” He edged back a step. His eyes widened when he saw the anger in mine. “No. I meant—my dick has been hard, but this is more. I promise.”

I shoved him back. Damage done. “Can you take me back?”

He didn’t argue, but watched me warily. “Are you okay?”

“No.” Why lie? There was nothing to lose.

“Really?” His voice hitched on a note.

I frowned. That couldn’t have been panic. Jesse Hunt did not panic. He did not grovel. He did not feel anything except for lust. The memories of two years ago flooded back to me. Every time he looked away, every time he walked past without a hello, every time I saw him touch another girl, all flared in my memory. I cringed and clenched my teeth to keep from sobbing before I could stop the memories. They were haunting me.

“Alex?”