His French words whispered against my lips are like drops of kerosene.

It’s so painful.

When I come, it doesn’t feel good so much as earth-shattering. For a brief moment, my world depends solely on him. My gravity, breath, life—they’re all his.

Chapter Thirty-Four

Emmett

“Come home with me.”

It’s the third time I’ve asked.

I have Lainey in the back of my car. We’re heading through the city streets, back toward her grandmother’s house after leaving Bar 717. At any second, we’ll arrive and she’ll get out, and I hate that I haven’t been able to change her mind about coming back to my place.

“It’s not even midnight.”

She shrugs, keeping her attention out the window. “Then you still have time to go find another woman to kiss when the ball drops. I’m sure Miranda would be all too happy to oblige. And if not her, the next one down the line…”

I haven’t touched her since we walked out of that draped-off corner of the bar, but I’ve had enough. I reach over and grab her by the chin, forcing her to look at me. I’m not being kind or respectful. I’m being a fucking animal.

“What do you need me to say? She means nothing. They all mean nothing. If I never saw them again, I’d think nothing of it.”

She tries half-heartedly to pull away, but I don’t let her.

I lean in closer. “You’re the one I want, petite souris.”

Her green eyes are wide with panic. Her pupils dilated. Her lips bruised and red.

What we did at the club was torture, barely a taste.

The car starts to slow. We’ve arrived, and Lainey’s relief is palpable.

She’s unbuckled and opening her door before we even come to a full stop. I follow suit, flinging my door open to walk her up the stairs.

She’s not amused.

“Do you find it so hard to believe that I want you?” I ask.

She whirls around to face me, her voice turning desperate as she throws her hands out toward me. “Do you find it so hard to believe that I don’t care?”

“I thought we were done with lies.”

I almost touch her again, almost pull her into my arms and force the issue.

It’s hard to stay away and watch her shake her head as she looks up to the cold night sky. When she resigns herself to meeting my gaze again, a fissure of fear runs through me. There’s a detachment there, a purposeful separation between us.

“Emmett, I almost feel bad for you. When’s the last time a woman actually turned you down? When’s the last time you were heartbroken over someone?”

I drag my hands through my hair, utterly exasperated that she’s trying to degrade the issue to something as mundane as that. “Don’t paint me with that brush. You know I’m not that guy. We sat in the library at St. John’s and whispered our fucking secrets to each other. We had a kinship, you and I, and you know full well I’ve dealt with heartache. I’m a bleeding heart on your doorstep, Lainey. I’ve known so little love in my life that it’s blatantly obvious to me what this is.”