He thrust against me again, his hand still clamped around my wrists. “But I don’t want a fuck buddy.”

I hesitated, frowning. Wouldn’t most guys be overjoyed about that type of arrangement? He seemed more annoyed than anything else. Confusion swirled inside me. It threatened to rise up and drown out these other, more pleasant feelings. “We could hook up—”

His expression went blank, his voice flat and even. “I want more than a cheap, quick fuck.”

My jaw clenched and eyes narrowed, irritation contending with arousal, threatening to supplant it. “Then you can fucking buy me dinner once in a while,” I ground out between clenched teeth.

Our gazes collided in silent struggle. He released my wrists and I immediately put my hands on his solid shoulders and shoved. He didn’t budge.

“I know what I want,” he said in that firm, charged voice that held an angry undercurrent. “And when I put my mind to something I tend to get it.”

Heat flushed my face and I looked away from his dark, penetrating stare. “I hate to disappoint you, but in this case, you aren’t going to,” I replied.

He studied me for a long moment and I couldn’t take his scrutiny a minute longer. I pushed on his shoulders again and he slid off, unburdening me of his weight. I sat up and ran a hand through my hair while he rolled on his side and watched me.

“What are you afraid of?”

I clenched my teeth. “Who said I was afraid?”

“I’m saying it.”

Stiffening, I bent to snatch up my T-shirt and pull it over my head, turning my back to him in the process. “There are two of us talking here and only one of us is a proven liar. I’d stop talking if I were you.”

I jerked to my feet and began pacing in front of the bed. Adam watched me with enigmatic eyes the color of midnight. “Actually there’s only one of us really talking. Me.”

I smirked, gesturing at him sharply. “The proven liar. That’s just great.”

He shrugged. The movement was stiff, like he was faking it. “You’re the one who’s lying now.”

I halted, turning to him with arms crossed over my chest. “Oh? And what am I lying about?”

“Your feelings. About the fact that this doesn’t bother you. You don’t want to talk because you’re afraid of what this is going to start.”

Hot anger pooled, settled into my joints, stiffening them. “I’m pissed at you for not telling me the truth. How’s that? I may have been preparing myself to lose you tomorrow, but not Fallen.”

“You don’t have to lose either one of us,” he said quietly.

I put my hands to my forehead. The whole concept made my brain ache. “You are still two separate people in my head. I haven’t even had a chance to absorb any of this and you demand to know my feelings? I don’t even know what the fuck they are.”

He stood and walked toward me slowly, as if I were a scared rabbit that might hop away from any sudden movement. The ambient light gleamed on his muscular torso, his pants slung low on his hips. He was so damn sexy he took my breath away, even when he was irritating the hell out of me. He stood very close but didn’t touch me.

“Then allow yourself the time to figure it out. Give us the time.”

I sighed and looked away, off to the side, anywhere but at him. “No.”

His hands came up to take my shoulders in a gentle hold. When he spoke, his voice had a desperate edge to it. “Emilia—”

“No!” I gritted out between clenched teeth, finally meeting his gaze. “Explain to me about this fairy tale you are proposing. About how something like this is supposed to even work—even beyond the trust issues, which are monumental at this point. With my two jobs and preparing for medical school and your hundred-hour workweek, how would something like that work? Neither of us even date.”

“It’s not a fairy tale. It’s a real life, honest, grown-up relationship where two adults work out their differences once they decide they want to be together—”

I pulled back against his hold on my shoulders and he dropped his arms. I continued to back away. “Is all this because you feel guilty about us sleeping together even though you never planned for it to go this far?”

He shook his head, running a hand through his hair. “No.” His fist knotted.

“I think it is.”

His head darted up to pin me down with an angry glare. “Well, you’re wrong. You have no fucking idea what is going through my mind, so stop twisting things to support your cynical and warped view on the world.”