Five Alarm Lust by Elise Whyles (reading cloud ebooks .TXT) 📗

snapped, anger racing along her nerves. “You don’t even know me! You wouldn’t even fuck me for how long? How can you possibly say you know me?”

“Like hell I don’t!” Jack slapped the counter top, fury flashing in his eyes. “You think this is some big joke? A way to pass the time until something better comes along?”

“Something better?” Gillian spun on her heel and stormed down the hall to the bedroom, pain and fury lashing each step like a whip. “Yeah, when is that going to happen, Jack? When do you think something better is going to come along? My mother’s throwing herself at you, my ex is out for blood, and where am I? Tell me! I’d like to know. I’d like to know where the hell I fit in. I should know by now loving anyone is foolish. If my mother doesn’t steal it out from under me, then the novelty wears off and I’m left alone again!” Slamming the bedroom door, she sank onto the bed, tears streaming down her face.

“Who the hell said anything about you being alone?” Jack shouted through the door. It flew open, banging into the wall. Gillian’s gaze darted up to meet Jack’s furious stare. “Hmm? You tell me where the hell you get off saying something like that?”

Gillian curled into a ball on the bed, tears streaming down her face. Fear surfaced, anger, but it wasn’t directed at Jack. With a bolt, she realized she respected his temper, but she didn’t fear him. Didn’t fear the fury within him—she was scared for him. “What? It’s the truth.”

“It’s not the truth. It was never—”

“Really?” The need to shred, to rip everything wide open clawed at her control. Why should she be calm and steady when her life was falling apart? How long until Jack realized he’d gotten the short end of the stick and left her? The bed creaked as she rose, her body vibrating with emotion. “You make me want things I know I can’t have, Jack. It’s not fair, it’s not right. How can you expect me to walk away, huh? I’m not like your usual women. I’m just plain, simple, ugly little old Gillian Rebecca. Flat as a board with more brains then boobs. Sexless, shapeless. Cold. Dirty.” Sobs of pain shredded her heart as she tore at her clothes, her skin. “I hate me. I hate everything there is about me. What man in his right mind is going to want a woman who doesn’t even know how to give a blowjob? Or understand why he wants her to do things? Hmm? I’m not like other women. I don’t enjoy—”

“Gillian, stop it!” Jack grabbed her as she raked a hand over the dresser, sending his phone and alarm clock crashing to the floor. “Stop, just stop, baby. You’re not sexless, or cold, or dirty. You’re the woman I’m in love with.”

“Don’t, don’t be nice. Don’t act like you care. Please, please don’t make it harder than it already is.” Gillian struggled in his grasp. The urge to run pulled at her, dragging her toward the end of her emotional rope. The warmth, the strength of his embrace, chased away the chills but couldn’t breach the very real terror and hatred broiling within her heart. “Don’t think I believe it. I don’t. I don’t. I can’t.” She curled into herself and sobbed, her heart shredded, exposed.

Chapter 25

Gillian nursed a cup of coffee and sat on the deck, her eyes watching Jack and a couple of men working in the yard. She knew he’d picked up on the distance in her in the last four days. The pain in his eyes when he looked at her kicked at the already broken pieces of her heart. Wasn’t it better to hurt him now than later when it could kill him? How could he not see, not understand why? She’d stopped sleeping in his room. Instead she slept on the couch rather than share his warmth.

Even the little things like having a shower were done alone, with a locked door between them. Every time she turned around his whispered words rang in her ears, reminding her just how badly she’d screwed up. Ignoring Doctor Reimer’s attempts to speak to her, she’d withdrawn into herself, her mind made up. If she wasn’t close, he wouldn’t get hurt. It didn’t matter if he thought he was in love with her, she knew the truth, knew he couldn’t be. Loving him was something she couldn’t bring herself to regret, bring herself to feel shame over, but she held no illusions. No one would love her, not if they knew the whole truth.

Hearing the faint ringing of the phone, she sighed and headed inside to answer it. “Hello?”

“Thank goodness, I feared I’d get your watchdog.” Her mother’s voice sent prickles of ice down her spine.

“What do you want?”

“I’m in a bit of a pickle and I need—”

“Yes, Constable Feller told me about it. What makes you think I care?”

“Please, Gillian, honey. I have nothing. Lenny’s petitioned for divorce.”

“Not my problem.” Gillian slammed the phone down and glanced out the window to where the men were standing, shovels in hand. Licking her lips, she turned and headed for the bedroom. Her things still occupied half the closet, and with Jack distracted it would be a good time to leave.

The crash of the front door smashing inward drew a startled scream as she whirled, hovering in the hall a few steps from the kitchen. A heavy, imposing weight settled on her chest at the figure in the doorway. Dressed in orange coveralls, his face sweat-streaked, Mike glared at her.

“Figured you’d be stupid or maybe just plain desperate enough to stick around. Never was smart enough to—”

“Get out.” Gillian backed toward the kitchen. “You don’t belong here, you don’t belong anywhere. Go screw my mother, it’s about all you were good for anyway.”

“Yeah, well, what can I say, when I wanna fuck I want one that’s good.”