Chapter 32 – Pretending You Are Mine Novel

His eyes turn murderous as he says, “I told her to get the f**k away from me. What part of that don’t you understand?”

“The part where you allowed her to touch your inner th**h. And why did you even need me there? I was useless.”

“You were anything but useless,” he yells.

“Prove it. What could I have possibly offered—”

“A shield,” he yells. “You were my goddamn shield. I don’t want to be around Sarah, I don’t even want to be near her, especially since Posey said she’s trying to win me back.” He takes a deep breath and pulls on the back of his neck. “I don’t . . . I don’t want her knowing she has a chance. That’s what you’re for. That’s what this was all about. It’s not my goddamn fault that you’re using me a different way, a way to get ahead.”

My eyes narrow. “I told you I wasn’t going to do that article. Jesus, Silas. Are you even listening to yourself?”

“Are you listening to yourself? F**k, Ollie. I told you I don’t want Sarah. If I want anyone at this f**king point, it’s you.” Frustrated, he growls out an angry “F**k” before he heads toward the door again.

“Wait,” I say, running up to him and standing in front of the door.

In a defeated voice, he says, “Move.”

“No, I’m not going to let you leave like this.”

“Oliana,” he says, unable to look at me. “Just let me go.”

“No,” I answer again and step up to him. With my hand that’s not covering my br***ts, I p**ss against his chest. “Why don’t you talk to me?”

“Because I don’t talk to anyone,” he says. “No one.”

“Silas, please, you can talk—”

“No, I can’t,” he says, moving me against the wall again. When his eyes meet mine, I can feel his pain so vividly that my heart actually aches. “I can’t talk to you. I can’t tell you how I’m feeling. I can’t tell you how f**king frustrated I am with you. How irritated I am. How I wish I never met you because then I wouldn’t be in this situation of wanting to f**k you so bad that I actually can’t think when I’m around you. And I shouldn’t want that. I shouldn’t want to be buried between your legs because you’re not right for me. We are not right for each other.” He takes a step back and uses both hands to pull on the back of his neck. “Just move, Ollie. Please. Let me go.”

I p**ss my trembling l*ps together and shake my head. “I want you to stay here.”

“I’m not f**king you,” he says.

“Then don’t. Just stay with me, sleep in my bed, don’t be alone.”

He shakes his head but doesn’t say anything. He just stares at the ceiling, and I can see his resolve wavering. I can see him considering the possibility of staying, so I p**ss him more.

“Please, Silas. Stay with me.”

He blows out a frustrated breath and looks me in the eyes. Pain sears through his pupils as he says, “I’m not talking.”

“Then don’t. You can just lie down with me.”

He scans me and asks, “Why?”

“Because it’s clear you’re hurting.”

“I don’t need you to fix me,” he says, trying to move past me, but I stop him.

“I’m not trying to fix you, Silas. I’m trying to offer you comfort.”

“I don’t need it.”

I p**ss my hand to his chest again. “Yes, you do. And I’m going to tell you right now, if you leave this room, I’m chasing after you, just like this. Nearly naked. Is that what you want?”

He w*ts his l*ps, looking me up and down again. “No.”

“Then stay. Please, Silas, just stay.”

He studies me, just standing there, his Adam’s apple bobbing, his damaged eyes taking me all in, wavering with what he should do. And when I think he’s going to physically move me himself, he takes a step back and turns back into my room, where he takes his suit jacket off, followed by the white b**ton-up, and drapes them over my desk chair. He undoes his belt and pants but doesn’t take them off as he gets rid of his shoes and socks.

When he glances up at me through his hair, I feel a wave of euphoria hit me all at once. He stayed. He might not say it, but he finds comfort in me, in my small dorm, and this is where he wants to be. Not alone in his large apartment . . . but with me.

He heads down the hallway and quietly says, “I’m going to use the bathroom. Can I use your toothpaste?”

I nod, and as he passes me, his hand trails across my stomach before he shuts the door to the bathroom. When he’s out of sight, I let out a deep sigh and drop my arm.

God, I have no idea what I’m doing. I’m in way over my head, and I know I shouldn’t want him in any way, but that damaged look in his eyes, it’s destroyed me. I’ve never seen such demons, such strength when it comes to keeping everything to himself. I want to help him, be there for him, let him know he’s not alone.

I push off the wall and walk over to his white b**ton-up. I let the rich fabric r*b between my fi**gers. Sarah must have really f**ked him up for him to need me as a shield. And for him to make that happen, even if it means threatening me. He’s that desperate, which if I truly think about it, I don’t believe he would have said something. Even though he’d probably never admit it, I know he cares about me. I know he wants to protect me.

And that trust he has, it’s very thin, and he’s willing to take it away without blinking an eye. Which just means Sarah must have done the same thing.

I pick up his white shirt and fit it over my shoulders, the size difference easily noticeable as I b**ton up the middle b**tons. It feels warm, comfortable, like his arms are wr*pped around me. And just as I start rolling the sleeves, he steps out of the bathroom and finds me.

The crease in his brow unfurrows.

“Is this okay?” I ask.

Slowly, he makes his way toward me, his every step sexier than the last with the attention he commands from his powerful body. When he reaches me, he pinches one of the b**tons that rests just above my br***ts as he says, “Yeah.”

One word, but it feels like a ton of bricks, knocking me down to my knees.

He w*ts his l*ps, and when his eyes connect with mine, I can feel my body tremble with a combination of need and anticipation. But even though his presence electrifies me, I can see something different in his eyes. Not anger, not pain, but vulnerability. It’s right there, in his worn, tired irises. He might not say it, talk about it, or acknowledge it, but I can see it, and that makes me feel like I’m something special to this consuming man.

When he steps away from me and heads toward my bed, I walk on shaky legs to the bathroom where I finish getting ready for bed.

I take my time, attempting to calm my racing heart, and tell myself that I’m just sexually charged right now. That’s why my mind is clouded with thoughts of Silas, not for any other reason.

After I finish washing my makeup off, I turn off the light and notice that the only light on in the main living area is my nightstand light. Silas sits on the edge of the bed in nothing but his boxer briefs, and I can’t help but take in his muscular shoulders, rock-hard pecs, and the contours that wr*p around his body from many hours in the gym. He’s carved and sculpted his body to perfection.

When he notices my presence, he stands, towering over me in his height, and pulls the blankets back. Without a word, I sl*p into bed and move against the wall but face him. He sl*ps in as well, turns off the light, and faces me. We both rest our heads on the pillows, and I reach out and p**ss my fi**gers to his chest.

“You good?” I ask him.

“Okay,” he says and then molds his hand over mine. “I’m sorry, Ollie.”

“Silas, you don’t—”

“Please let me apologize,” he says softly.

“Okay.”

He places his hand on my cheek, and he says, “I feel like I’m constantly apologizing to you because I keep f**king up, but that’s what I am . . . I’m a f**k-up.”

“You’re not. You’re just hurting.”

“That’s not an excuse.” His thumb strokes my cheek. “Just because I’m hurting doesn’t mean I need to hurt you.”

I lift my hand from his chest and cup the hand that’s on my cheek as I scoot closer to him. “I don’t know what happened between you and Sarah, and that’s your story to tell someday or keep in. It’s up to you, but what I do know is that she hurt you, that she took your trust, and she ran with it. And that makes me sad because I see you walk around, not allowing people to get close to you. I can even see it with your guys.”

“It’s how I prefer it. Can’t get hurt if you’re not close to anyone.”

“But you’re close to me right now,” I say, scooting in another inch.

“This is different.”

“Is it, though?” I ask.

“It is because even though you’re close, I don’t think I can fully let you in.”

I want to scream why? But I know the answer. I know he’s struggling with trusting people, and given his profession and celebrity, I don’t blame him. He probably has people asking him for something every day.

So I can p**ssure him, or I can let him realize that I am someone he can trust and maybe over time, he will let me in.

“That’s okay,” I say. “I’m just happy I’m close enough.” I smile at him, and he strokes my cheek. “But I need you to know something, Silas. I have no intention of hurting you . . . ever. That’s why I went to your place to talk about the hockey article because I wanted to figure out a way that wasn’t going to hurt you.”

“I see that now,” he says softly. “I’m sorry I thought otherwise.”

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