Total pages in book: 142
Estimated words: 131330 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 657(@200wpm)___ 525(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131330 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 657(@200wpm)___ 525(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
She whips around, her eyes wide. “Are you fucking kidding me? Holy shit, Izaac. You must be fucking blind to your own bullshit,” she says. “Where do I even start? You come to my rescue. You panic when I’m in trouble. You get jealous when I consider being with other men. Any of that ring a bell for you?”
She gives me an expectant stare, and when I don’t respond, she continues.
“Have it your way,” she snaps. “When you’re inside of me, you insist on holding my stare. When I need comfort, you hold my hand like you’d never let it go. When you think you’re about to lose me, you sit at my fucking door for hours until I give you the time of day to try and make it right. And yet you have the audacity to insist that I don’t mean anything to you.”
“Birdy—”
“No. No more Birdy. No more anything,” she tells me. “When I was in those bushes, I was terrified, and the only thing that gave me focus was the words you whispered to me, and then you had the fucking balls to shut down when I asked you if you meant it.”
She shakes her head, and I don’t respond, sensing that she’s not even close to being done. “I’m sick of this shit, Izaac. I’m sick of watching you start to open up only to put your walls back in place and act like I don’t mean a damn thing. It’s fucking bullshit,” she says, stopping to meet my stare, her green eyes filling with tears that shred me to pieces. “It hurts, and I’m over it. So if you fucking want me, just say it and I’m yours. I love you, Izaac. I fucking love you, but you’re killing me.”
“Aspen, I—”
“No,” she demands, shoving her hand against my chest, fury brimming in her wet eyes. “Stop. I don’t want to hear any more of your fucking excuses. Just tell me you love me. We both know it. I can feel it every time you touch me, every fucking time you look at me, so just admit it. Put me out of my misery and tell me I’m yours.”
My chest constricts. I thought we’d been through this. I thought she knew where I stood. “Don’t do this, Aspen,” I grit through a clenched jaw, able to see how the rest of the night will go if she keeps pushing, and trust me, it would be even uglier than our last argument.
Anger flashes in those beautiful green eyes and she lifts her chin, fixing me with a defiant stare that could terrify the dead. “You. Love. Me.”
My heart pounds a million miles an hour, maybe even faster than when I was flying toward her in my car and listening to her terror-filled whimpers through my speakers.
Why is she doing this? Why is she trying to make this harder? Does she get off on the pain? Does she like it when I’m left with no fucking choice but to hurt her? I can’t fucking do this.
Holding her stare, I tear my own fucking heart right out of my chest as I blatantly lie. “I don’t.”
“You’re a terrible liar.”
I step away from her, needing space between us. “Why the fuck do you keep pushing this, Aspen? I’ve already told you I can never love you. I can’t allow myself to want you like that. I don’t want to hurt you.”
She shakes her head. “For someone who claims he doesn’t want to hurt me, it seems to be the only thing you’re capable of.”
“That’s a low fucking blow, and you know it,” I tell her. “You’re forcing me to do this. You’re practically standing before me and demanding I draw some kind of line between us. Do you really think that’s what I want?”
“No, I know exactly what you want, but you’re too goddamn scared to do anything about it.”
I scoff. “This is getting us nowhere. Just go to bed, Aspen. You’ve had a big night.”
I go to turn on my heel, more than ready to pretend this shit never happened, when she steps around me and shoves the door closed. “You’re not going anywhere,” she says. “I get that you’re not willing to fight for this, but I am, and I’m not going to stop until you finally admit what we’ve both known since the moment you touched me.”
Anger fires through me, pulsing through my veins like a fucking tsunami, and I clench my hands into fists, unable to control the recklessness pounding within me. “You’re a fucking child, Aspen.”
She laughs, looking at me with such disdain it fucking breaks me. “Oh, real nice. I’m the fucking child? I’m the one fighting for something real while you’re the one backing away, too fucking scared of his own damn shadow to even understand what he’s feeling,” she seethes, pushing into me, her hand hard against my chest.