Total pages in book: 142
Estimated words: 131330 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 657(@200wpm)___ 525(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131330 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 657(@200wpm)___ 525(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
Walking around the side of my bed, I step up to my bedside table and gaze down at my phone, my heart sinking when I find Izaac’s name across the screen.
The call rings out, and the moment the sound fades from my room, I let out a shaky breath. Talking to him is only going to make matters worse. I need a day or two to nurse my wounds before facing that, but what it comes down to is that this thing with Izaac . . . I need to end it. Only I’m not sure I have the strength to physically say the words.
Grabbing the phone, I turn on my heel and stalk back to the couch, but before I crash down against the soft cushion, my phone rings again. Against my better judgment, I let out a heavy groan and accept the call. “Is there something you need from me?”
“You told Becs?” Izaac demands, disbelief thick in his tone.
“Are you kidding me right now?” I ask, my eyes widening at the audacity of this man. “That’s really what you want to talk about? Get fucked, Izaac.”
Rage fills my veins, and before he gets a single word out, I end the call, tossing my phone down on the couch as I press my hands to my temples and try not to scream.
I’ve said it before, and I’m sure I’ll say it a million times more; Izaac Banks is impossible. Hell, if I knew being the woman he currently takes pleasure in would drive me insane, perhaps I would have reconsidered my lifetime crush on the asshole.
The phone rings again, and I clench my jaw, knowing I should ignore it, but there’s too much fight left in my veins. If he wants to have it out, then I’m all for it. Scooping the phone up, I hit accept and press it to my ear, only before I can even think of a slew of insults to throw at him, he beats me to it. “Did you just hang up on me?”
“Of course I did,” I throw back at him. “You’re an asshole, and I’ll happily do it again.”
“Just . . . fuck! Don’t hang up, okay? I just . . . I don’t understand what the fuck is going on with you. One minute you were into it and the next you flew out the fucking door. Again. I thought we talked about this. If you have something to say, then fucking say it.”
“Ha,” I scoff. “Right back at ya.”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
Is he serious right now? Can he honestly not see what’s going on between us, can’t even pull his head out of his ass long enough to see how things are starting to shift, that he’s falling for me just as much as I’ve fallen for him? But hell, if he wants to ignore it, then so be it. “You know what? If you haven’t figured it out by now, then who the hell am I to try and help you along?”
The need to hang up on the bastard pounds through my veins, but I try to keep what composure I can as I listen to his frustrated groan. “Last night,” he starts, a clear cringe in his tone. “It wasn’t just some quick fuck. It was—”
He cuts himself off, and it only frustrates me more. “It was what? It meant more than that?”
“No,” he says, not bothering to sugarcoat his rejection.
“Ahh, so it was just a quick fuck then. Thanks a lot. You really know how to make a woman feel valued.”
“Fuck, Aspen. I—”
“Do me a favor,” I say, my voice shaking as I feel a thick lump appear in the back of my throat, tears threatening to spill over my eyes. “The next time you’re looking for some whore to sink your dick into, leave me out of it. I’m not down with being used as some wet hole for you to fuck.”
“That’s not what it was,” he insists.
“Then go ahead and enlighten me,” I tell him. “The floor is all yours. What was it?”
Izaac falls silent, and I shake my head, disappointment swelling in my chest.
“Why am I not surprised?” I scoff, never having felt so small and irrelevant in my life. “You’ve tiptoed around it all week, and every time you touch me, I can feel that it means something to you, but you’re too fucking scared to admit it. You’re a coward, Izaac.”
Not prepared to allow him to break me further, I end the call and crash down onto the couch, my face buried in my hands as the tears fall. I sit there for twenty minutes, my world crumbling out from beneath me as I curl up with my blanket, desperately wishing things could be different. Wishing he could just love me the way I’ve always needed him to.