One Dirty Night

I didn’t want him here.

I thought I did when I’d run out the door—some masochistic part of me using the emotional pain he gave me as a trigger to want him, but now, with Hunter’s heavy arm around me and his taste still in my mouth, I got angry.

Fuming angry.

So, so angry it completely shocked me with its severity. Eight months’ worth of holding my tongue, not fighting back, not calling him out on his bullshit. I took his icy behaviour at work. I tolerated his stiffness at home.

But here?

Tonight…

I don’t have to put up with anything.

Hunter felt me bristle next to him and threw me a questioning look. I didn’t look back. I kept my eyes locked on Nicholas and said what I should’ve said so many nights ago.

“At least I know how to pleasure myself, unlike some people I know. At least I allow myself to release once in a while instead of letting all that unsatisfied need twist into something toxic.”

“Toxic?” His eyebrows shot into his hair. “Who said anything about being toxic?”

“I did.” I cocked my chin. “You are. You’re the worst kind.”

“What?” His jaw clenched as he stepped closer, squashing me into Hunter’s side. “You don’t know a damn thing about me.”

I didn’t back down, and Hunter didn’t intervene. He merely watched with a sly smile on his lips, his fingers digging into me with power. “Don’t I? I’ve lived with you for months. I’ve tried to be nice. I’ve offered to be friends. I go out of my way to include you. Yet each time I made dinner for us to chat, or I called you in the supermarket to see if you needed me to get you anything when I did my weekly shop, you always gave me attitude.”

Nick’s entire face twisted. “I was told when I accepted my work contract that I’d be given my own place. I wasn’t expecting to have to rent with someone who—”

“Oh, so this is my fault, is it?” I sneered. “You wanted to be alone, and instead, you got shacked up with me?”

He swallowed a growl, but it still covered his words with grumbly, tetchy darkness. “Yes! And believe me, I wasn’t ready for you.”

I crossed my arms. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“It means I had a life plan, that’s what! Work hard. Focus. Make a breakthrough in cancer treatment. Get financially stable. And then…then I’d find a girl who…who—”

“Who what? You sound like an owl.” I tapped my foot. “What’s wrong? Finally realised you have no life and successfully pushed away the very people who could’ve given you a little joy while you’re so damn busy working all the time?”

“You don’t give me joy, Ella.” He laughed blackly. “You give me the opposite of fucking joy.”

My anger exploded as if he’d poured gasoline on it. “Screw you, Nick. I’m nice. I’m a good person. And you? You…you are nothing more than a…than a frigid bastard who—”

“Really, really wants to fuck you,” Hunter interrupted with a curt snap. “Shit, just look at him, little witch. He’s about to jump out of his skin with how much he wants you.”

My anger whipped back, slapping me around the cheek. All my fight evaporated as I blinked at Nick.

I studied the out-of-control gaze.

The heaving of his chest.

The livid, furious way he held every muscle and sinew.

Hunter was wrong.

Nick looked as if he wanted to murder me and bury me in an unmarked grave, not ravish me.

Hunter didn’t say a word as I licked my lips and forced a laugh. “I think you believe everyone is a repressed deviant.”

“I don’t think.” Hunter kissed my nose with a flourish. “I know. Every single person who comes to my circus starts off wrapped in lies. They lie on the form about what their fantasies are. They lie when they meet a potential partner to play with. But you know what happens?” His purple eyes landed on Nick, narrowed and cold. “By the end…once they realise that this is a safe place—that they won’t be judged and don’t have to hide—they’re honest for the first time in their lives. They wake up and realise all that repression has twisted them into something cruel. Something full of temper and irritation.”