One Summer with the Sinner (Monteverde Series 5)

38

Chapter Thirty-Eight

VANE JASON

She's crying and kissing me at the same time.

She's shaking and running her fingers down my chest at the same time.

She's whimpering and pushing my hand under her skirt at the same time.

And fuck, I could imagine how this moment could have been wonderful, if only she didn't make me feel like she regrets every move she's making. If only she didn't look so disgusted whenever our skins would come into contact. If only she didn't flinch at my sudden touches as if they burned her. I would have loved every minute of it, if only I didn't feel that of all the reasons that she's suddenly this intimate with me, none of them was love.

And I can't do this – well, not this way.

I pulled my face away to break the kiss, and she eyed me, looking more broken and forlorn than she was minutes ago. She was sitting on my lap, straddling me, her arms still on my chest, yet even with the proximity, I felt how far away she was.

"Asheng," I called her. "What's wrong? Baby, what's the matter?" When I got in the car and saw tears streaming down from her face earlier, I quickly tried to pull her toward me, alarmed by the sudden spiral and downwards turn of her mood. But instead, she pushed me to the driver's seat and started kissing me with urgency, with a need I didn't know she possessed.

But it felt different – bad different.

Because it felt forced.

And I know that love has many faces, but it's not supposed to look like this.

More tears run down her face, and I'm confused and hurt at the same time as I wiped them all away. My hands travelled to her arms, massaging them up and down, trying to calm her nerves. But she took my hand and tried to push it back under her skirt, inside her underwear.

"Touch me." Her voice was raspy, and she sounded like she's begging.

"No... This..." I pulled my hand and placed it on her waist. "This isn't you. I can't."

"You can't?" She sounded more hurt than before. "Or you won't?"

"What do you mean?" I shook my head. "It's not that I won't, it's that I do, but I can't." I smiled sardonically and pushed my back towards the seat, looking out. I can't stand another second of looking into her eyes and seeing only distrust. "I want you. I crave for you. And you don't know how much I have to hold myself around you every single time because I have the highest level of respect for you. It's not that I won't..." I released a shaky breath. "It's that I do, I fucking do, but I can't when you're right here, on top of me, shaking and crying and flinching at my touches as if you're so utterly disgusted by them. I can't because you don't make me feel that I can."

Her lips are trembling now, and it makes me regret that I've even said anything at all. I wanted to say sorry and take it all back, take everything back, but I meant them, and I had a feeling that she's not crying because I'm wrong. She's crying because I was right – the disgust on her face, the betrayal, they're all there, shining like a beacon for me to see and feel.

And I just wish I knew where they came from.

"Have you..." She inhaled. "Have you ever touched someone the way you touched me earlier?"

I opened my mouth only to close them again. I wanted to tell her that with her, everything feels different. With her, it always feels like the first time. With her, it feels new and raw and just real. But the more I said those in my mind, the more I knew she wouldn't believe them.