C13, PT. 7

His words slurred on the last word. She stared at his profile, mind whirling, as she sensed him drift off. If she was in the same room as his college professor, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to stop herself from attacking the predatory bitch. The professor took advantage of a teen who was intellectually mature, but physically and emotionally, eons behind. She’d been with dozens of men and never been taken advantage of like that.

And the bitch who came after her… What woman would volunteer a second time after failing to get him off initially? It had to be someone who either desperately wanted him or his money. Why did she want to wake him up to demand that woman’s name, number, and address so she could scratch her eyes out? She buried her face against his hot skin and willed away the unwarranted, seething jealousy. Why would it have been easier to hear he’d fucked one hundred women instead of just one? Her eyes burned with tears of guilt, relief, and rage.

The casual way he imparted the story of his sexual experiences, as if everyone was initiated by their college professor at sixteen, made her stomach roll. Had the professor’s initiation ruined sex for him, or was it his aversion to his mother’s co-dependency that made him suppress his body’s needs until she came along? It was no wonder he had latched onto her. He’d been starved for acceptance in a world that had been nothing but cruel. The fact that he accomplished what he had despite his hardships was a testament to his mental resilience. He never gave in to a weakness until her. And it had destroyed everything he worked so hard for.

 She spread-eagled protectively over him and wrapped him up tight to comfort him and herself as she watched the snow fall. She mourned the neglected boy who had grown up under such dire circumstances, the naive teen who had been preyed upon by an authority figure he clearly trusted before she violated him, and the man who’s only crime was seeking kindness and connection from the daughter of a tyrant who had done his best to destroy them both. If her father hadn’t found out about the affair, maybe the novelty of their attraction would have passed. Instead, he’d been drawn into war with her father and blackmailed, which put her constantly in the forefront of his mind since these consequences were a result of claiming her.

She jerked violently, which startled him awake.

“Jasmine?”

“Shh, sorry. Go back to sleep,” she urged and ran her fingers through his hair as she tried to calm herself.

A sex tape with a professor was blackmail worthy. For just a moment, she thought he may have told her without actually telling her, but no. He’d been too composed and matter of fact about the incident, nothing like his reaction at Tuxedo Park with Thea, which meant it had to be something else. Something worse. Her stomach lurched. If it was worse than a grown woman taking advantage of a teen, she didn’t want to know. Had Dad tried to blackmail him about that, realized it wouldn’t work, and had to search for something else? And he’d found it.

It was understandable that Roth didn’t want this attachment to her. He wanted to go back to living in his head and doing business without caring how it affected anyone. His willingness to push his limits and make allowances suddenly made sense. He had to sate his fantasies to get past his obsession with her. But he wasn’t going to leave without putting every other man she’d been with to shame and fulfill her fantasies as well, so no man who came after could top him. Then, he would pursue the goals he set aside to have his revenge.

One day, he would treat her like everyone else. Invisible, beneath his notice. She knew, no matter how much time passed, she would never be able to treat him like they were distant acquaintances. He was her first and regardless of who came after him, her last. It was just her luck that she fell for a man who had never been loved, didn’t know how to love, and probably never would. Her man was an emotional mess.

She pressed kisses along his broad shoulders, hands stroking muscles that felt like steel beneath dark velvet skin. She loved on him, safe in the knowledge that he was asleep and wouldn’t protest her need to attempt to heal what he didn’t even know was broken. The need to give was a compulsion she stifled all her life. No one wanted her love or affection. Not her father, sisters, even her husband. Men were only interested when it came in the form of sexual favors, but had no use for it otherwise. She would give him all she had, even if it left her hollow and empty. He deserved to be genuinely loved at least once in his life, even if he didn’t recognize it for what it was. After unwittingly causing him more harm when he’d already suffered so much, he deserved it.

Their first time, which clearly still pained him, was a memory she would always hold dear. To have a man lose control, to see that in his eyes, feel it in the hands gripping her as he struggled for control… Johanna Ledger and all the other dark romance authors had primed her for such an occasion, and she’d reveled in her power over him. Their first time was dark romance gold. Roth gave her what he could, and it was enough, since she too had never been loved and didn’t believe she would be. It was better to have loved than not at all, even if it was one-sided. She could still enjoy the time they had together and get what she needed from him before they parted.

When she finally rested her cheek at the top of his spine, arms and legs hugging him tightly, she failed to notice his hand was balled into a fist.

**This is a raw draft of Bitter Confessions. Please do not share or distribute.

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