What does he want? For me to beg? Because, hell, I’m ready to beg and then some.
How has it comes to this? Me…actually needing to beg for sex. Something is quite seriously fucking wrong with the world if it has come to me begging.
I hurl the pillow across the room and it hits the bathroom door silently. I’m tempted to throw something else, something that will give me a satisfying bang or crash, but even as angry as I am right now, I don’t want to ruin any of Savage’s things.
Despite how I feel at the moment, Savage has his hooks in me, and now I’m wondering if he really is sick.
Shit. I’m such a bitch. I should check on him.
I slide off the bed and hustle to the bathroom door. I don’t hear anything. No water running. No tell-tale sounds of Savage praying to the porcelain god.
“Savage? Are you all right?”
The toilet flushes and I spend several awkward moments standing with my ear up against the door, waiting for his response. I watch the doorknob turn and I take a step back, almost tripping on the damn pillow.
Crap.
I bend down and grab it just as the door opens and Savage appears. He certainly doesn’t look sick, and he avoids making eye contact with me as he rolls past me and directly for the bed.
Without even glancing my way, he moves into bed and tosses his shirt onto his chair. “I’m exhausted and feel like shit. I’m just going to go to sleep. You might want to go home tonight in case whatever I have isn’t food poisoning. I don’t want to get you sick.”
You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.
Go home? He’s actually telling me to leave!
I don’t think I’ve ever felt like such a pile of shit. Honestly, I thought tonight would be different, that maybe all he needed was a black silk nudge in the right direction. I guess I was wrong. What he needs is me to go home and leave him the fuck alone.
Well, I can certainly accommodate his request.
“Feel better.” The words come out as icy as my heart feels right now—cold and dark in my chest. This is what I get for opening myself up to a relationship. Rejection.
I slip my jeans and t-shirt on over the useless expensive fabric and grab my overnight bag and purse. When I reach the bedroom door, I pause to look back at him. The candles are still lit and I know I should probably blow them all out before I leave—I don’t want the place to burn down—but right now, I just want to get out.
“Don’t forget to blow out all the candles.” My words are met with silence. I bite my tongue to prevent myself from saying something I’ll regret later.
Making my way to the front door, I fish around in my purse until I find my phone. I call Nora and she picks up almost immediately.
“Hello?”
“Hey, I’m coming over.” I know she didn’t work tonight and is probably on the couch with a pint of mint chocolate chip.
“Why? Is everything okay?”
I let out a deep sigh and press the button for the elevator. “Of course it is, my boyfriend just rejected me and told me to go home.”
“Shit, Dani, you know how weird it is for me when you talk to me about Savage. I have to see him at work, you know?”
She doesn’t know the half of it. I’ve managed to keep my personal shit with Savage just that, personal. Even Caroline doesn’t know what’s been going on. But, Nora’s right. It isn’t fair for me to put her in an awkward position with her boss.
“I promise I won’t talk about him anymore tonight. I just want to come spend some time with my baby sister, all right?”
“Of course. I’ll see you soon.”
The elevator dings just as she hangs up and I enter the car and lean against the back wall, my ego utterly deflated. I’m out of ideas here. Maybe it’s time to give up trying and admit I was right to avoid getting emotionally tangled with someone like this.
When I left for the gym this morning, I didn’t think it was possible to be more frustrated, but I was wrong.
I stare up at the bar, which is weighed down with three hundred fifty pounds again, and I know, without even trying, I won’t be able to lift it today.
Fucking pussy.
Yeah, I know.
What happened with Dani last night won’t stop playing in a loop in my head and it’s throwing me completely off my game. She didn’t even respond to my good morning text.
I can’t say I blame her.
What I did last night might land on the top of the “unforgivable” list.
“Fuck.” I drop my forearm over my eyes and resign myself to the fact I won’t get anywhere with my workout today—at least the weight-lifting part.
“What the hell is wrong with you today?”
I move my arm and Rick is looking down at me with both concern and frustration.
“Nothing, I’m just…tired, I guess.”
“Bullshit.” He holds his hand out and I grasp it, letting him help pull me to a sitting position. “I’ve known you for three years, and I’ve seen you tired. I’ve seen you in pain. I’ve seen you sick. This is none of these. So, spill.”