Used (Unlovable, #1) (Unlovable Series) (28 page)

His fingers continue to pump in and out of me, and my quiet refusals become enraged protests. “Greer, you make me sick. I fucking hate you! Stop! Get off of me!” I struggle against him again. Tears spring to my eyes.

“You don’t hate me. You may not have told me you love me, but I’ve seen it. I don’t need the words. You love me. You want me. Only me,” he says as he sinks into me.

“Ah!” I cry out and my tears pour forth in earnest. “No, Greer, I hate you! Don’t do this!” I scream again. I start to struggle even harder, but it just forces him further inside me. I hear myself whimper. I’m crying in earnest now. I’ve had him many times, but he feels foreign and unwanted in this moment. I try to push him out of me. I want him out of me.

“Oh! I can tell how much you hate me. You’re so hot, and you fit me like you were made for me. Only I’ve been here. I’m the only one who’ll
ever
be here. Don’t you feel how much I want you? ‘Cause I feel how much you want me.” His eyes zero in on my mouth for a second before he mutters, “Fuck your rules.”

I open my mouth to scream again, but he slams his down on mine and sucks my words into his mouth with a punishing kiss. I can’t breathe. I can’t think. I don’t know what to do. Silent sobs wrack my entire body. And all they serve to do is make it feel like I’m participating in this. I finally think to bite him, but he has my mouth pried open and pinned back. I can’t even do that. With his legs sprawled on top of mine, he has me completely trapped.

I can’t breathe. Light-headedness overtakes me, and a seeping numbness spreads through my limbs. He drives in and out of me, and I want to die. His thumb come back to work me. And, to my utmost horror and shame, an orgasm works its way through me. How is that even possible? Now my tears are for my own body’s betrayal. I hear him groaning and feel him straining. Finally, he fills me with one final thrust and collapses on top of me, his hands finally releasing mine, and his head coming to rest on my panting chest. And I can’t move. I’m frozen again. Stunned.

After what feels like forever but is probably only a few minutes, his breathing returns to normal, and I realize that mine has too. He pushes up on his palms, and I see his gorgeous, smiling face go from blissful to pained. Dropping down on his elbows, he uses his thumbs to wipe under my eyes.

“Baby, why are you crying?” he asks with concern.

I just stare at him. I can’t speak.
Why am I crying?
You just … just. “I told you no,” I whisper brokenly.

“Denver, I thought you were kidding around. We’ve played that game before. But you know I’d never hurt you,” he soothes, as he runs his hands over my hair.

“You did hurt me, Greer. You’ve been hurting me for years. I just didn’t know until now and I—” A sob breaks through before I can say anymore.

He leans and kisses the tip of my nose and my forehead. I don’t turn my head quick enough. “Let me get you some water,” he says as he eases out of me and rolls out of bed. I watch dispassionately as he slips on his boxer briefs and leaves the room.

I lie there for a second. Wondering … did he just … did he just do what I think he did? That’s the way it feels. I snap out of my stupor and spring from the bed. I’m shaking as I pull on my clothes and grab my boots. I sling the door open, forcing it into wall with a loud bang. Greer’s leaving the kitchen to come back to me when I spot him.

“Baby, where are you going? I—”

He can’t finish his statement because my fist slams into his perfect fucking face. Water sloshes to the floor. “What the fuck?” he roars, grabbing his nose and pinching. He removes his hand, looking at the blood. “Fuck, Denver, you busted my damn nose!”

“I said, ‘No! Stop! Get off of me! I fucking hate you!’ And you wouldn’t stop,” I storm. “You’ve hurt me so badly over these years, Greer. I can’t even …”

He sets the glass of water on the bar and grabs a paper towel to staunch the blood that trickles from his nose. “You liked it,” he insists. “You always like it like that.” He grabs my arms and tries to pull me to him. I’m not budging. Does he think I’m playing some kind of game? “Denver, I’d never hurt you like that.” I see the sincerity in his eyes and hear it in his tone, but I … I just don’t know. Maybe that’s not what happened. I waver. “I swear to God, Denver, please know that I was messing around. I’d never hurt you like that.”

Maybe not like that, but he damn sure hurt me in other ways, and on purpose. “Not only that, but you’d ruin me for every other guy so that I’d have no other options but you, right? That’s sick. I meant what I said, Greer, I hate you.” I jerk my arms from his and start toward the door.

“Please don’t leave like this. Let me make this right.”

I throw my arms out in exasperation. “Nothing you could
ever
do would make any of this right!” I screech. “You. Betrayed. Me! After everything we’ve been through. And I did NOT want to have sex with you after you told me how you did me wrong, and you …
you made me
!” I take a deep breath, trying to calm myself. “I told you no.” My voice cracks, and I hate it. I finally see a little something register in his eyes. I need to get away from him. Just being near him makes me want to vomit.

“Oh my God. Oh my God, Denver! No.”

That’s the last thing I hear him say as I turn and fly out of his door and run toward the stairs, taking them as quickly as possible. Adrenaline courses through me, and I make it down the stairs in record time. When I near the bottom floor, I’m shaking uncontrollably. Greer was supposed to be my ride home, and Maggie is still at the party with Pete. I can’t go in there.

I wind myself around the banister and duck under the stairs. Pulling my legs to my chest, I wrap my arms around them and perch my head on my knees. I’ll just sit for a few minutes while I get myself together. I just need five minutes.

Chapter Twenty-two

Denver

C
LOSING MY EYES
, I try to clear my head and rid myself of all thought. I envision my mind as one of my open fields back home. It’s green and lush. It’s springtime. Having just rained, it smells fresh and unused. Teeming with new life and new possibilities, it awaits my next move. Will I ride out across and embrace this hand I’ve just been dealt? Or, will I sit back in my saddle and let this happen around me, unspeaking and unmoving?

How many times have I had to pick myself up and move forward?

How many more times would I have to?

I shake my head as black ink spills all over my perfect landscape. A single tear slips down my cheek. I don’t know if I can do it this time. At least all those other times, I had my best friend. Now, I have no one. I sniff a little.

Deep breath.

Release.

Hiccup.

Tears.

Shit.

The music from the party gets louder for a minute, and I hear a couple shuffle past me to sit on the steps. About that time, I hear angry footsteps coming down the stairs.

“Hey, Molly, Luke, have y’all seen Denver?” Greer asks.

“No, man, not since she left with you.”

“Molly?”

“No. Is everything OK?”

Greer starts walking again and says, “Not really. I need to find her is all.” I hear the door open and slam behind him. He’s had too much to drink, so I hope he’s not going to drive.
Ugh! Why do I care?
Letting out a shaky breath, I feel as though I’ve just been granted a reprieve.

I don’t know how long I’ve been sitting here, but my legs are cramping up. My hand is throbbing too. I pull it up and examine my swollen knuckles. I punched him hard right across the bridge of his nose. I guess it’ll be sore for a while.

I see a few more feet pass by me and leave the party.

I will myself to get up, but I just … can’t. I can’t.

I’ve been with Greer before. Many times. Why am I so upset? Even though we used each other for years, I never actually felt used. Until now.

I feel used now.

My brain cannot wrap itself around the fact that he is the cause of so much of my pain. The one person I trusted to keep me safe. Keep me from being hurt. He was my secret tormentor, and I did that to him. He may have been the nail, but I was most definitely the hammer. I drove him to desperate measures with my rules and my boundaries and my unwillingness to do the simple thing he asked of me—love him back. He was nothing but good to me before I tainted him.

My golden boy. Gone.

I guess a toxic relationship like ours couldn’t die a quiet, dignified death. It had to go out with a bang—a spitting, sputtering, gut-wrenching bang.

I gasp for air on this thought, and another whimper leaves me. I try to stifle it, but it can’t be helped. My tear ducts seem to use this slight sound as permission to allow a waterfall of tears to escape. Damn it! I need to stop, get it together, and get out of here. I use the back of my hands to dry my face.

“Well, if it isn’t Denver. What’s wrong, sweetheart? Couldn’t find someone’s boyfriend to steal tonight?” I hear Becky taunting me. “Look, Amber, it’s Denver and she’s crying. I didn’t know sluts had the emotional capacity for tears.”

Amber snickers and mutters, “Will wonders never cease? Come on, Becky. We’ll miss our ride.”

They move to leave, but Becky turns back. “And don’t think for a second that Greer’s little outburst against me had any effect whatsoever. Everyone knows the truth about you and about me,” she scolds before she prances off.

When the door slams, my quiet sobs become louder. And I literally shush myself. Oh my God! Why can I not stop crying? I haven’t stopped crying since he … since he was on top of me. I can’t think about that. I can’t think about him being inside of me.

After all these years of making sure that never happened to me … I never thought he’d be the one to … no, I’m not ready to consider that.

I relax one of my legs and rub it for a moment before tucking it back in and doing the same to the other. I consider making the short walk back to my dorm, but I’m weak and afraid he’ll be there. As I pull in the other leg, I hear a muffled curse.

“Denver?” Oh, no! Anyone but him. I’d rather be ridiculed by all those hateful girls than see him. He hates me. He will take so much pleasure in seeing me brought down to the level he’s already put me on. Sobs wrack my frame. He crouches in front of me. “Hey, now. Shh … what’s going on? Why are you crying? Are you hurt?”

I shake my head side to side, close my eyes tight, and bite my lip. His hand brushes my hair aside, and I flinch.

“Easy now. Can I do anything? Can I get someone for you?”

“Ye-yes … Maggie?” I manage.

“Oh, um, Maggie and Pete left a while ago. She said you left already. Is there anyone else?”

“No,” I whisper. And I did that to myself. Well, I had a little help from Greer. With that thought, I’m overcome with tears again.

I hear Ransom let a long sigh and feel my hands being pulled until I am on my feet. Looking up, I take in his set jaw and piercing, green gaze. Will he know? It has to be written all over my face. “Come on, Denver. Let’s go upstairs and get you cleaned up.”

He reaches down to grab my boots for me. “Is this all you have?” he asks. I nod. He motions for me to lead the way to the stairs, and I try to head that way, but my legs don’t work. I almost crumple, but I feel myself being lifted in the air before I can actually fall. “I’ve got you. I don’t know what’s going on, but you’ve got me scared.”

“Just need another minute,” I sob.

Chapter Twenty-three

Ransom

M
Y DOOR’S UNLOCKED
, so I tell her to open it before easing us both inside. She’s a compact little thing and fits perfectly in my arms. I don’t really know what to do with her, but I’ve got it in my head that if she gets cleaned up she’ll feel better, and I can take her to her dorm and be done with her. So I head toward the bathroom.

Bending over, I set her on her feet and glance at her. I saw she was a mess, but like a solar eclipse, looking directly at Denver is painful, so I didn’t until now. Her mascara is running down her face. Hair’s a complete mess, like her hands were fisted in it and she was pulling on it. Those eyes, though, the ones I thought were the strongest I’ve ever seen—they look … weighty. Like it’s everything she can do to keep them open. What are they weighted with—that’s the question.
Shit
.

“Umm … I’ll get you a washcloth. You’ll be OK here for a second?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she chokes out.

Yeah, no you’re not.
Shit.

When I come back from the hall closet, she’s laid her forehead on the door and is just standing there focusing on breathing. At least that’s what she looks like she’s doing. She’s not crying anymore. That’s a plus. I almost mention that to cheer her up but think better of it. Don’t want to set her off again.

I lean her back and reach around her to open the door. I follow her in, flip the light on, and toss the washcloth on the sink. I glance around, wondering if it’s clean. It looks like two guys live here. I push our shaving gear and other stuff into a compact circle. I grab Pete’s clothes off the floor and back out.

“Ransom?” I barely hear her call.

“Yeah?”

“Umm … do you mind …” Her voice catches. “Do you mind if I take a shower?” Another sniff.

Shit. A naked Denver in my bathroom? Can I handle that? No. “Yeah, of course,” my manners speak for me. Shit.

“Thank you.”

After I get the water right for her, I step out quickly, but linger by the door. Does she want clean clothes to put on? She didn’t look dirty, just rumpled. I start wondering what exactly happened with her. She and Greer left the party after he made his stupid announcement. Did he hurt her? I don’t see that happening. First off, she’s tough as nails and wouldn’t let anyone hurt her. Second off, Greer may be a lot of things, but I don’t see him hurting her. Unless it’s her heart that’s hurting. I guess she does have one after all. Whatever happened, she seems a shell of the Denver I’ve come to know and hate and … as much as I wanted to deny it, love. I’m sure this Denver is temporary. She’ll be back to her caustic self in no time at all.