Chapter 11

“Like what?” He shifts off me. Suddenly I’m cold and alone and terrified.

I shrug helplessly. “Nothing.” I want him to touch me again. Anything for those hands, that body… “Please. Like nothing. Please.”

It’s too late. He rolls over on his side of the bed, muttering darkly. “Fuck this shit,” he growls into his pillow. He’s turned away from me, and I know from experience nothing I say or do will get him back into my arms tonight. “You have nothing to pout about. There’s nothing you can’t have, nothing I won’t give you, and still you lie here like a child, pouting and crying yourself to sleep. What the fuck’s your problem now?”

I sigh. “Please,” I manage before the tears sting my eyes and clog my words. What I want to hear heloves me, without the alcohol in his system, without his dick softening along my thigh. Is that too much to ask?

“Grow up,” he tells me.