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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.