Me: I was very serious. I want more.

Carter: You can’t be without me. This is just a phase.

Me: It’s not a phase, Carter. You either want this like I do, or you don’t.

Me: And I’ll have you know, I have been doing just *fine* without you.

Carter: You’re not fooling me, angel.

Ugh, I was tempted to throw the phone across the room. He was right. I wasn’t doing fine, but for the sake of what little dignity I had left, I had to pretend I was. I couldn’t let the cocky bastard get to me.

Me: I think you need to realize there’s more to life than you.

With that, I turned the phone off, determined not to get distracted by him again.

*

A bang sounded out from the front door. After having dozed off on the couch, I opened my eyes and looked toward it.

I could hear the sound of keys jingling. I glanced at the time. 1:40am.

The knob turned, but it wasn’t opening. It wiggled and another bang sounded. I got up from the couch and went to the door. I knew it was Carter. Who else could it be? I looked through the peephole and sighed.

I was right, of course.

I opened the door and he immediately collapsed into me, knocking me back. We fell to the ground, him over me. My ass broke the fall, so it wasn’t so bad, but his upper body had me flat on the floor in an instant.

“Shit! Fuck!” he cursed, looking down at me with glassy eyes. “Sorry, Angel. Was leaning against the door.”

He smelled of alcohol, and he was drunk off his ass. The weight of his upper frame had me pinned harshly under him. I could hardly move.

“It’s okay,” I breathed out. “But you need to get off now.”

“No,” he protested in a whine, “I like where I am just fine.”

“You’re squashing me.”

He balanced his weight on his elbows and I sucked in a breath of air. What was his problem? He was still over top of me.

“You didn’t mean it, right?” he slurred, those plump lips demanding attention.

I stilled and eyed his mouth for a moment. “Carter…”

“You weren’t serious,” he went on, determined. “I know you weren’t. What we have is too good.”

“Please, get off.”

“Why?”

“You know why.”

He sighed and rested his forehead against my own. My body naturally warmed to him, and I had to shut my eyes to try and not be taken aback by the way he made me feel every time he touched me.

“Carter…” My voice felt weak and uncertain. I was doubting myself. This is what he did. He clouded my firm belief in something and made me question everything.

“Leah…” His lips brushed against my own. Even drunk his hands were skilled, moving down my body slowly, making my breathing hitch.

“Get off me,” I told him inaudibly.

“No,” he replied, resolute. He pressed his lips against me again, forcing me to spread my mouth apart. I felt his tongue against mine, and I sagged further into the floor. “You want this,” he muttered. “I know you do.”

I wanted this, sure, but not under the same conditions. I shook my head slowly, trying to fight this soul sucking man from ruining my decision.

His hand went to the side of my face and his mouth moved deeper into my own. He was an addiction that was impossible to kick the second you tasted it. My mouth naturally took him in, flicking my tongue against his. Fuck, it was good. I felt his other hand gripping my thigh, moving it apart from my other leg. The second he rested his lower body against me, I gasped, feeling his length pressing into me.

“I missed you,” he went on to whisper. “Fuckin’ hell, Leah, my cock missed you too.”

My skin broke out in sweat and my need to grab hold of him to me was consuming. I was so close to letting go. To saying fuck it and taking him. But I quickly broke free of the kiss instead, and pushed him off with all my strength. He fell to the side, stunned and grunting. I speedily stood up and backed away from him. I was panting and my hair was over my face, clinging to the sweat on my cheek. I was wet and needy, and it didn’t help his taste was still on my tongue. I wiped my mouth to fight against it.

“I’m done with this,” I told him firmly. “I’m not going to play your game anymore.”

He slowly stood up, his face hard now as his hair fell over his eyes. He gripped the kitchen counter to balance himself and looked back at me.

“This is bullshit,” he told me angrily. “I’m not the one playing games, Leah. I know you want me. Why deny yourself that?”

“I’m not going to keep repeating myself.”

“We were fine before!” he shouted suddenly. “I don’t fucking get it! I don’t understand where the fuck this is coming from!”

I crossed my arms, surprised by how quickly this had escalated. “I’m tired of getting hurt.”

“I’m not hurting you! You’ve done that to yourself! You’re pissed because I referred to you as my fucking friend? I told you right from the get-go that I wanted us to stay close, that I didn’t want to fuck us up by being more than friends!”

I balled my hands up and retorted, “We were never just friends!”

He shook his head, disagreeing, and pointed at me, leaning forward as he gritted out, “Then that’s your own mistake, Leah.”

“Then why touch me? Why kiss me?”

“Because I’m attracted to you, and you’re attracted to me. That doesn’t mean I’m going to unload my soul to you like you’re my other fucking half. That shit doesn’t exist! Stop deluding yourself with your fairy tale bullshit. Love doesn’t fucking exist the way you think it does. It’s made up bullshit, designed to fuck people up into having these illusions that there’s more to life. There’s not. There’s nothing out there, Leah. Wake up.”

How had things gone from bad to worse in the blink of an eye? I couldn’t even stand being in the same room as him the way he was talking to me. I saw nothing but a stranger standing in front of me. It was almost like he was trying to be a dick on purpose. Did he want me to hate him? Is that what this was?

“I’m not chasing you,” he then said with finality. “You understand? You walk away from this and you better expect I’m done.”

This was getting out of hand.