A matching shuddery breath leaves me when I realize he’s hard. His hand slips up my cheek, into my hair, until his fingers are at the back of my head, tightening around the long strands until I have no choice but to bend my head back, my new tattoo aching, the adhesive from the bandage tugging the few hairs that are captured beneath it.

It hurts, but I revel in the pain. Because it means I’m alive and Colin is touching me, kissing me. I want more.

So much more than what I’m willing to ask for.

He shifts his position, towering over me, dominating me, and a delicious shiver runs over my skin and through my veins, settling between my legs.

“I could take you like this.” His hips thrust against mine, a slow, sensual roll that nearly makes my eyes cross. I try my best to withhold the whimper of pleasure that wants to escape, but it’s no use. “Would you like that?” he asks, his perfect full lips tilting up at the corners. He’s looking right at me, his lids lowered, his gaze smoldering and nearly setting me on fire.

I don’t answer. I freaking can’t find my voice, I’m so turned on, turned inside out. Trying to lift my head to connect our mouths again, he tightens his hold on my hair, sending a ripple of pain across my neck. My freshly tattooed skin hurts, the bandage isn’t helping, but I ignore it. I focus instead on Colin, how he’s keeping me in place. Keeping me under his control.

He likes control. I’ve known this for years. I had no idea it carried over sexually, though I shouldn’t be surprised.

“I won’t fuck you, though. I can’t have you,” he says, disappointment ringing in his deep voice. He runs his lips along my neck, covering my sensitive skin with tiny, hot kisses, and I moan, wishing I were naked.

Wishing he were inside me. Filling me, fucking me like he suggested. Pounding deep within me so hard I can’t help but come within minutes.

God, I really, desperately want that.

My moan seems to knock him out of his stupor and he rears his head back, releasing his hold on me as if I’ve burned him. Scrambling off the mattress so fast it all happens in a frenzied blur. He’s standing on the side of the bed, running his hands through his hair and clutching the back of his head as he looks at me in utter disbelief. “What the fuck just happened?”

Sitting up, I smooth my hair back from my face, wincing when my fingers brush over my bandage. “Don’t pretend you don’t know what just happened.”

He glances down at himself, spotting his erection no doubt, and makes one of those frustrated male sounds he’s so good at. “Tell me we didn’t . . .”

“Don’t worry.” I climb off the bed, trying my best to look dignified as I stand before him, knowing I’m failing miserably considering I’m wearing a see-through tank and skimpy panties. I should be embarrassed, but screw it. “We didn’t. Like you don’t know that.” We didn’t even get in any tongue action with our kiss and I’m downright desperate to know his taste. To know if we’re as compatible as I hope we are when it comes to kissing.

Disappointment settles over me, mixed with a fair dose of irritation. This conversation we’re about to have is gonna go south, quick.

“Why are you in my bed?” His gaze drops, drinking me in, and those cool blue eyes of his heat with unmistakable arousal.

“Why am I always in your bed? Why do you think I come to you at least four times a week in the middle of the night and slip beneath the sheets with you? If you’re going to pretend like you don’t know what’s happening here, I swear to God, Colin, I’m going to kick your ass.”

He has the nerve to laugh, the jackass. “Did you know you’re pretty hot when you’re mad?”

“This isn’t a joke.” Taking a deep breath, I tell myself to remain calm. He’s doing his usual thing. Pretending nothing serious just went down, acting like he has no idea what actually happened.

He’s a liar. I wonder if he’s been playing me this entire time.

“I know it’s not.” His words practically dare me to explain exactly what’s happening.

So I go for it.

“We never talk about it, you know.” I take a step toward him, forgetting my lack of clothing, too focused on my anger. “What happens at night between us. What’s been building and growing since I moved in with you.”

He backs up, his expression wary. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t act like you don’t know.” I take another step closer, his body heat radiating toward me, tempting me. Despite my anger and frustration, I still want him and it’s infuriating. “Your bad dreams, me sneaking into your bed and holding you close. Trying to make you feel better. What do you dream about, Colin?”

“I don’t remember,” he says automatically, but he knows. Just like I know.

“You dream about my brother.” Another step, and this time I grab his hand and cling to it. “It’s been almost two years. You need to let Danny go.”

He jerks his hand out of mine. “I don’t want to talk about this.”

“We have to. It’s like this huge wall that sits between us. And every time I try to scale it, you push me off.” I start toward him again, ready to push him, hit him, I don’t know what, but he grabs me first. Wraps those big, warm hands of his around my waist and sets me away from him as if he can’t stand having me too close.

“I won’t do this, Jen. Not now.” The expression on his face really says not ever.

And that pushes me past my breaking point. I’m done.

“That’s why I won’t stay here. This place, this entire situation, is unhealthy. Oh, and our so-called relationship? Completely unhealthy. I refuse to stand by and let you pretend nothing is happening when something so is. I’m not going to be the only player in this game.” Turning, I head straight for the door, praying he’ll chase after me, grab me, kiss me senseless.

At the very least, yell at me to stop, beg me to listen to his explanations. I want that glimpse into his soul, his heart. The wall he’s built around it is made of steel, absolutely impenetrable, but I want to be the only one who can bust it down.

Yet he does nothing. Absolutely nothing. Just lets me go, as usual, without saying a word.

So I walk out, never once looking back. It takes everything within me not to look back.

When I finally make it to my room, with the door firmly locked, the window thrown open to let in some of that deliciously cold night air, I collapse on my bed and cry. Heavy, painful sobs take over my body as I bury my face in the pillow so he won’t hear me. Leaving him is the right thing to do, the only thing to do. This merry-go-round Colin and I are on is pointless. My crying over him? It’s pointless too.

As the last sob escapes me, I’m thankful for the cool breeze that dries the tears on my cheeks. Thankful even more for the sleep that slowly but sweetly takes over me.

Colin

I let her walk out of my room and didn’t try to stop her. What the fuck is wrong with me? Twenty-four years old and I’m acting like a child. She means the world to me and I keep on letting her go. Keep on pretending what’s happening between us isn’t real. All for her sake, I tell myself. I don’t want to hurt her.

Bullshit. More like I don’t want to hurt myself. Taking risks with my career is never a problem. Taking risks with my personal life?

Forget it.

Collapsing on the edge of the bed, I lean forward and hang my head, resting my elbows on my knees. My earlier erection is long gone, replaced by a pile of regret that bubbles up, threatening to choke me. She’s right. I lied. I knew exactly what happened between us. How good she felt, how amazing she tasted. How responsive she’d been within seconds of me touching her.

Like a complete asshole, I pushed her away, pretended I didn’t know what was going on, and essentially shut her out for the last time. She walked out of my room without looking back once, hot as fuck in a pair of panties that rode up her ass and showed off her firm cheeks, a thin tank top that was see-through, allowing me to make out the color and size of her nipples right before she turned away from me.