Swallowing hard, I clenched my teeth and shrugged with stiff shoulders. My entire body tensed with anger. “No reason.” I managed to eke out the words. “Later.” I pivoted, holding my breath—holding everything that tried to pry open my lips to be set free.

“You want to know if I had sex with her, huh?”

My feet stopped in place, but I couldn’t turn around. “No.”

“No? Really? Well, we did. Full penetration. There’s really nothing better than being buried balls deep in a woman. No holding back. No fragile hymens. No guilt. Just raw fucking.”

Tears stung my eyes before I had a chance to flinch at his vulgarity, and I forced my feet to make speedy, gigantic strides out of the garage.

“Not so quick.” I heard the thunk of weights hitting the rubber mat, and in the next breath he grabbed my arm and whipped me around to face him. “It’s a joke.” He shook his head and grinned as his other hand blotted the wet corners of my eyes.

“It’s a terrible joke,” I whispered past the lump in my throat.

“Probably. But Rory comes home in a few days.” He blew out a long breath. “And you said it would stop then. You said you didn’t want her to know. So if we’re a few days from ending whatever this is … then you need to get ahold of yourself.”

That confirmation? The one that said his feelings toward me were way different than mine were toward him? It sucked.

Jerking my hand away, I finished wiping my eyes before a new round of emotion made its way to the stage. “I have ahold of myself. I’m just not emotionally dead like you are. Not because I’m eighteen. It’s because I’m a good person with real emotions, and that will never change. So excuse me if the idea of you screwing someone immediately after consuming me like some tasteless appetizer is a little disheartening, but it’s only because I don’t offer myself up to just anyone like you obviously do.”

Fisher’s head jerked backward. “First…” he held up a finger in my face “…you didn’t really let me taste you, so the tasteless reference is unfair. And second…” he held up another finger “…if you’re insinuating Angie is just anyone, then you need to check your facts again.”

My face scrunched into my most menacing expression, which probably only made me look constipated. “You are … you’re …” My hands balled into tight fists.

He smirked.

Gah!

I hated him for smirking at me when there was nothing funny about anything we were discussing.

“For a cruciv—cruciferous whatever that made-up word was you called yourself, you sure lack in vocabulary when the pressure’s on.”