Chapter Twenty Six
Mia
Mateo’s hand creeps between my legs.
I squeeze them together just to be difficult, but he rolls his eyes at the attempt to block him out. His strong hand pushes between them anyway, his finger dipping inside me.
I’m face-down on the bed already, my hair still damp from a shower. Our shower, I guess. It started out just mine. He wanted to watch me, and he activated the sex-over-brain feature only he knows how to access, so I went along with it. But then he wanted me, so he climbed in behind me and fucked me until there was no hot water left. After that, he carried me into the bedroom, water still dripping from both of us. I clung to his body like I’d die if he let me go, and I kissed him, even though he was kissing me back. Then he threw me down on the bed and finished fucking me.
We haven’t managed to get clothes on yet. We’re still in bed, still damp, and I can’t believe he’s trying to fuck me again. It’s been just long enough for my brain to turn back on now though, so I remember not to want him.
He’s not in any hurry, apparently. Leisurely toying with my pussy, he moves his body toward mine and drops kisses along the curve of my back. It’s so hard when he gets tender. He’s never unguarded around me anymore, and it makes me so sad. I’m the last person in the world I want Mateo to need his guard up around. It kills me knowing he wants me, because regardless of his treatment of me sometimes, I know it isn’t just sexual. He still spends far more time in my bed than Meg’s, and although I continue to resist his efforts, I’ve felt a difference in myself lately. I’ve felt the love and protectiveness I used to feel for him trying to pull me back in. Sometimes I feel like he’s vulnerable to me, like he needs me, and it literally hurts not to give myself to him. It hurts me to deny him.
The problem is, it hurts more not to. Sometimes I can’t fight it. Some nights I’m his in ways I promised I never would be again. But morning always comes. The fog always clears. I always remember what having this cost Vince, and then I hate myself. I hate myself so much.
I don’t think he ever meant to make me hate myself.
Last night was the worst. Last night he almost got me to tell him I loved him. It was another fuck-a-thon, I was exhausted physically, over stimulated. I just wanted him to stop—needed him to stop. I needed a break, and he doesn’t give breaks, especially not when he’s on a mission. I just wanted to submit to him. I wanted to let him win. Then he could curl up beside me and hold me, and we could have peace.
But we can’t. There is no peace here. The more I admit to myself I want him, the less peace I have. I know, because I couldn’t get out “I love you” but I was so tapped out last night, I did tell him I wanted him. It wasn’t what he wanted, but he accepted it. He asked how much. He made me tell him. Then he made me come again, and I don’t know if it was the last orgasm I couldn’t handle or submitting to him, but when he finished, when he curled up beside me, I couldn’t hold back tears. I sobbed like he’d hurt me, and he hadn’t. I had to get out of his embrace, and I just curled up on my side of the bed, away from him.
Today, he isn’t making demands of me.
Today, he doesn’t ask me to love him.
Today, he’s gentle with my mind.
But I’m so exhausted. This is getting so hard. I know I’m making it hard, but I can’t stop. I can’t stop carrying the guilt. Anytime I’m tempted to let go, to give Mateo the forgiveness he wants from me, I flagellate myself with memories. I remind myself that because of me, because of us, Vince doesn’t get to move on.
It’s not even about punishing Mateo anymore. I don’t want to punish him; I want to love him. But I can’t. I hate myself too much when I start to feel those feelings again. And that’s where we are—at an impasse.
“Would you forgive me if it was only you I hurt?”
He doesn’t usually ask me things like this when he’s being sexual, so I’m taken off-guard, but I turn my face to look over at him. “I always forgive you for hurting only me.”
It seems like that was the answer he expected, but he doesn’t like it. “It doesn’t make you feel bad about yourself?”
“No, not like this,” I answer, mildly. “It’s my experience. I’ll decide for myself how to respond to it.”
He moves in to kiss me, but I turn my face, not letting him connect.
It’s been a month today. One whole month without Vince. I think about it off and on, when he doesn’t have me thoroughly distracted.
He’s not trying to accelerate things right now; he’s just toying with me idly. Just wanting to touch me, to connect. Wanting to access me in the only way I always let him.
Only now he withdraws his hand and withdraws from me. He moves back to his own side of the bed and stares up at the ceiling. I steal a glance over at him, trying not to turn my head so he doesn’t see. It makes me miserable. He looks done.
It makes me ache.
It makes me want to crawl across the bed and kiss him. Apologize for not kissing him back. Touch him. Mold myself against him until he’s consuming me again.
I wish it could last. It could’ve lasted.
It’s sort of hilarious, in a karmic way. I couldn’t give myself to Vince because I was so hung up on Mateo, and now that I finally get Mateo, I can’t give myself to him because I’m too hung up on Vince.
“You’re never going to forgive me, are you?”
My stomach drops. I don’t want to answer that. I’ve already answered it, and I don’t want to do it again. I don’t want to tell him no, and I can’t tell him yes. I think I could forgive him, somehow, but if I did, I’d never forgive myself.
Swallowing the sudden lump in my throat, fighting the sting of tears, I tell him, “I wish I could.”
“So, this is the line. This is the line I couldn’t cross.”
“I tried to tell you that,” I remind him, quietly. I’m not trying to rub it in, I just wish more than anything he would’ve believed me. When you’re soft, people think you’re weak. He thought he could brush past this. He thought I was so flimsy, so workable. He overestimated my pliability.
Glancing over at me, he says, “You know, Adrian called your love unconditional. That’s what he thought. It’s what I thought, too. It made me more comfortable trusting you than Meg. I guess I was wrong about you.”
My heart nearly stops at this. I feel like he just socked me in the stomach. It takes a minute for his words to sink in, for the look on his face to register, because he’s never looked at me that way before.
When it hits me, I feel gutted.
I’ve disappointed him. I’ve let him down.
Mateo is disappointed in me.
I want to throw up.
My insides feel shaky, but I push myself up on my arm, moving a fraction of an inch closer to him. I hate how small my voice is, but I can’t seem to muster much volume as I say feebly, “You weren’t wrong about me.”
“I was,” he says. He offers me a little smile, but it’s a sad smile, like he’s already accepted it. “It’s not your fault. It’s mine. I expected too much from you. You impressed the hell out of me, took me by surprise. I thought you could handle me.”
He’s making me feel… I can’t even put into words how awful he’s making me feel. I reject all of this, every single thing he’s saying.
And then I’m surer than ever that he’s done when he sighs. “Oh well. We tried. Now we know. It was just a fantasy.”
He goes to sit up, and I shove myself upright, too. “It wasn’t a fantasy. That’s not true. Don’t say that. What I felt was real. It was so real. I’ve never felt anything so real.”
“Apparently not,” he says, climbing off the bed.
Panic fills my chest, making it difficult to breathe. “You weren’t wrong about me, Mateo. I desperately wanted to be that for you. You know I did.”
As he steps into his pants, he turns back to meet my gaze. “Then why aren’t you?”
He knows why, goddammit. Still, it makes my heart sink like I’ve failed him.
“Maybe we have different definitions of unconditional,” he says casually, looking away from me and buttoning his pants.
My mind races as he pulls his shirt on. I don’t want him to leave, not like this. Not disappointed in me.
Then he says, “Can you take off the necklace?”
My hand flies to my neck, to the locket hanging there. “Why?”
“Because it’s already dangled from the neck of one woman who didn’t love me, and I don’t want to do that again.”
This is even worse—I can’t keep the look of absolute revulsion off my face as he all but calls me Beth.
I didn’t know the story of Beth, but Meg filled me in. Meg doesn’t hate her, because she’s Meg. But I do—fuck that bitch. Doing what she did to him probably made him the way he is.
“I am not like Beth.”
“I think I’m a better judge of that than you,” he points out mildly, buttoning up his shirt.
“Stop getting dressed,” I say, impulsively. “Sit back down and talk to me.”
“It’s time to get back to my life, Mia,” he tells me.
Ouch. “I’m part of your life,” I remind him softly.
He sighs, taking a seat on the edge of my bed and looking back at me with a look that verges on apologetic. “I think that was a mistake.”
I fall back on my legs, feeling a little like he just stole the breath from my lungs. “Are you… are you dumping me?”
“We’re not 15, I’m not dumping you. I just don’t want to do this to you anymore. I thought this would be rewarding for both of us, and it obviously isn’t turning out the way we thought it would. I think it could’ve, if you would’ve been able to…” He stops, shaking his head. “But it doesn’t matter. It didn’t, and it’s not your fault but you can’t give me what I need from you.”
“Yes I can,” I say automatically, not even realizing what I’m saying. I just have to disagree with him, because I don’t want this.
“It’s okay,” he says, reaching out and tenderly caressing my jaw. “You don’t have to.”
“But I can,” I argue, wanting to sink into his touch. Wanting to cry. Is he serious? He killed my boyfriend, and after a month he’s just going to call it? What the fuck? This was all for nothing, and he’s disappointed in me. It’s like he’s undone everything. It’s like he’s erasing the good memories. It’s like… he’s erasing me from his life.
“I’m going to get you an apartment in the city near campus. I won’t make you stay here any longer. I’ll still pay for you to finish your degree, it’s the least I can do for you.”
I shake my head in denial, unable to grasp this. “You’ve gotta be kidding me. You’re punishing me. This is a punishment.”
“This is not a punishment, Mia. It’s a punishment to be with someone you love, knowing they don’t feel the same way. That’s a punishment. And I don’t want to do it again. It hurt like hell last time. Right now this is just a disappointment. Let’s not let it grow into a painful memory.”
“This isn’t right,” I tell him, shaking my head. “I don’t want us to be a disappointment. I don’t want this. I don’t want to leave.”
“Well, there’s no point in you staying.”
“But I’ll never see you again.”
Smiling faintly, he stands. “That’s probably a step in the right direction.”
“No.” I climb closer to the edge of the bed, grabbing the tail of his shirt since he hasn’t tucked it in yet. I tug him closer, bracing my hands on his sides, searching my mind for something to say, something to do. He’s wrong. He’s wrong about all of this. I’m not unable to give him what he wants. I can love him unconditionally. I was willing to share him, for fuck’s sake. It’s just… the toll that would take on me, loving him when every ounce of that love costs so much now….
Gently tugging his shirt out of my hand, he says, “Let go, Mia.”
Tears spring to my eyes and I feel like my heart is splintering apart in my chest. “I don’t want to let go.”
“Well, you have to let go of something. Either let go of me, or… It seems like the only option is to let go of me. Move on with your life.”
“That’s not the only option,” I say, quietly. “I don’t want this.”
“I don’t want to do this anymore, Mia,” he says, simply.
I can’t swallow down the lump in my throat this time. I try three times, but it won’t leave. The sting behind my eyes isn’t a sting anymore; there are tears there. He’s really going to do this. He’s really going to throw me away. He took everything from me, and I’m not meeting his expectations, so he’s just going to cast me aside. I have nothing to go back to. Nothing. I have no friends left from my life before them. I spend all my time with his family—I’ve only seen mine a handful of times since I moved in with Vince. And Vince. He took Vince from me so he could have me, and now he doesn’t want me anymore? Vince may have been a lot of things, but he never would’ve done this.
“Don’t do this,” I say, grabbing his shirt again, tugging him closer. “You do want this. You wanted it ten minutes ago. You wanted it last night. You can’t just turn it off like that.”
“I can,” he says, almost sympathetically.
Desperation claws at me now, because I don’t know if he can or not. That might be true. He doesn’t operate on the same emotional level as me. I couldn’t, but maybe he can.
I can’t plead with him, so I do the only thing I can think of—I pull him close and give him the kiss I denied him moments ago. He doesn’t respond. It makes me even more frantic. I hate when he does this. I hate when he won’t kiss me back.
But he probably does, too. I’ve done it to him, too.
“Kiss me back, goddammit,” I murmur, pushing myself up higher, pulling him close. “Fuck me.”
“You want me to fuck you?” he murmurs lowly.
“Yes. Please.”
“Why? So you can refuse to kiss me afterward?”
“I won’t do that,” I promise.
“Maybe not today,” he says, with disinterest. “But you will tomorrow, or the next day.”
“I won’t. I’m sorry. I won’t do that anymore.”
Something unsettlingly predatory crosses his face, but it’s gone in a flash. “I’m not playing these games with you anymore, Mia.”
“It’s not a game,” I promise, tugging him closer. “I just want you to stay.”
“I don’t know.” His words say he doesn’t know, but his gaze moves over my naked body, and I know he’s interested. I refuse to believe he isn’t.
“Come on,” I say, attempting to coax instead of beg. “It’ll be fun.”
“But it won’t be,” he says seriously. “It isn’t fun to want something from you that you can’t give me, Mia. That isn’t fun.”
“I’ll give it to you,” I tell him, even as my heart sinks.
That look’s in his eye again, the gleam he gets when I’m about to sell him a piece of my soul. I’ve seen it before, and it should be more of a turn-off, but it’s just… it’s just a part of him. And I love all the parts of him, even the dirty, rotten, evil ones.
I swore I wouldn’t, but I do.
I swore I’d deny us both, but I didn’t account for this. I didn’t count on him trying to throw me away.
He might be playing me, but he might not be. The stakes are too high. I can’t afford to lose him. I can’t envision a trajectory for my life anymore that doesn’t include sitting at his goddamn dinner table, or ever falling asleep with his strong arms wrapped around me, trapping me in the most sensual prison imaginable.
“Stay.”