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“Why should I? Why did I ever think that kiss was
something genuine? God, I’m an idiot.” I laugh.
“It was genuine
–” He scowls.
“How genuine is it when you turn around and sleep with my
roommate?”
“For the last time, I didn’t know she was your roommate!”
“So if she wasn’t, it’d be okay to sleep with her anyway.
Just as long as I didn’t know. You really are a sleazy man-slut.”
“I didn’t sleep with her! She just –” He runs a
frustrated hand through his hair. “She said she wasn’t feeling it and took off.
And I fell asleep in her bed half-dressed. I promise you.”
“But you threw yourself at her anyway.”
“I said I’d leave you alone and I am. I’m trying to
forget you, Rose.”
“Right.” My laugh is louder this time. “Well, good luck
with that.”
I turn to storm out the door when he grabs my hand and
pulls me into him. On top of him. We tumble onto my bed, his chest pinned
beneath mine and his eyes burning into me.
“Since the first time we ran into each other, every
girl’s bed I’ve slept in, I’ve wished with all my heart it was yours instead,”
He murmurs.
“Liar.” I snarl. “Let me go!”
I stop struggling when his hand ghosts up my back, plays
with the hem of my shirt, and dips below it, fingers tracing my spine so
tenderly I nearly let out a gasp.
“Every girl,” Lee leans up, planting kisses on my
jugular. “Every touch, every moan, every sensation, I imagined was coming from
you. Because of you. Do you know what that does to a person’s mind? I’m insane
now. Insane because of you.”
His fingers reach my bra clasp and he undoes them easily
and caresses the expanse of skin now freed. His hand inches around my ribcage
and up just a little, where the swell of my breasts begin. I instinctively drop
my head into the crook of his neck, too weak to hold it up. My face is on fire.
This is wrong. So wrong. Lee’s mouth is right next to my ear as he speaks, low
and soft.
“Take some responsibility for what you’ve done to me.”
Something hard and insistent presses against my thigh,
and my entire body feels like it’s going to burst into flames. That hard
pressure brings reality into the heady mix of my emotions – this is real. This
is very real. And if I don’t stop it, it’s going to spiral out of control and
he’ll get exactly what he wants – me, wrapped around his finger enough to marry
him, and then the money is his. He’ll keep me in a web of lies and this heated
passion for three months if I let him. This isn’t love. This is him playing me
like a piano.