He is here. Warm. Sexy. Still inside the room where I just let him back into my body before I knew whether my heart could survive it.
My eyes burn, and I hate that he sees.
“I gave in too fast.”
His face changes. “No.”
“Yes.”
“No, Lady. What happened here was ours. Not theirs.”
“Don’t tell me what it was.”
He shuts his mouth.
The silence stretches. This one is different from the old kind. He is not hiding. He is waiting.
It should help. It does not help enough.
I slide out of bed, taking the sheet with me. My legs are unsteady. I hate that too. I grab my robe from the floor and pull it on with my back to him.
“Lady.”
“You sleep on the couch.”
The words come out cold.
Too cold.
He takes them like a punch.
“Okay.”
That makes me angrier.
“Don’t okay me like you’re winning points.”
“I’m not winning shit tonight.”
“No, you’re not.”
“What’s the deal? I thought we made up? You’re going to let rumors and posts ruin this?”
“It’s my career, Shady.”
“You care what people think?”
“You do not have to care what people think. Your reputation gets you feared. Mine gets me paid.”
“Why? Because I’m a criminal?”
“Do you care about being one?”
“Do you think I’m one?”
“Aren’t you an outlaw,” I say, before I can stop myself. “It’s a synonym.”
The second it leaves my mouth, I know I did not ask a question. I threw shame at him because mine was too heavy to hold alone.