no control

• twenty •

My mind raced with different ways to pose my question. I didn't want to offend him nor insult the women he'd been with. I also didn't want to sound like a crazy, possessive person—even if that's what I was.

"Do you do this with every girl you like?" My voice was so timid and soft that even I could barely hear the words.

He sighed. "I don't like people. They annoy the fuck out of me."

I frowned, my stomach sinking. That in no way answered my question.

"Okay, so maybe you don't like them." I grimaced. "Do you have coffee and sit around with all of the women you bring home?"

"No," he spoke crossly, as if offended I would consider such a thing. "I don't have the patience or desire to deal with anyone else."

My frown deepened. Somehow, his words only ramped up my anxiety more. "So you've only ever had one night stands?"

He shrugged. "My past sexual encounters have nothing to do with you, Angel."

I looked out at the view beyond the windows, trying to make myself believe his words. While he probably believed that discounting his previous flings would reassure me, it had the opposite effect. Instead, I wondered if I meant anything to him either.

The problem was that he did mean something to me. He might not have anything on the line, but I had a lot on the line. Everything, actually.

"Jealous, are we?" he teased.

"I'm not jealous," I scoffed. Just insecure.

When I tried to leave his lap, his arms tightened around me. I finally relented with an exasperated sigh.

"I know your past is none of my business. We're not in a relationship. You don't owe me anything. I just want to know if . . ."

My mouth turned cotton dry at the path of my fears.

If I'm just another notch on your post.

If this is meaningful to you.

If you'll still want me in a month or a year or ten years.

Shit, I couldn't say any of that. It sounded so pathetic. I was a walking sack of trauma and insecurities.

I knew my feelings for this man were so absurd, but it was too late for me to stop them. The feelings were here. I couldn't magically make them go away.

And some of those feelings involved absolutely loathing the idea of his cock going anywhere near another woman.

"If?" he prodded.

"Never mind," I muttered.

I was picking a useless battle that would only give me more anxiety and insecurities. There was no telling how many he'd fucked in the same bed I'd just slept in. My gut roiled nauseatingly.

"You have no reason to be jealous," he said. "I'm not bringing anyone else around. You wouldn't be here unless I wanted you."

His words brought me very little comfort. Sure, he wanted me here now—but what about when he got bored? When he got super horny? Who would he invite over then, since he refused to fuck me?

But I didn't want to make myself look any worse than I already and I didn't want to make things harder on myself either. So I changed topics.

"What time is it?" I asked.

"Almost eight."

"Crap!" I gasped as I attempted to jump off his lip. His arms tightened around me. "I have school!"