“What’s not the same? The way you feel about Beau versus what you feel for me?” Incredulity dripped from Blake’s words.
“No, goddammit!” Ethan was rapidly losing his grasp on his temper. “I don’t feel the same for you that you feel for me.”
“Bullshit,” Blake yelled, taking several steps closer.
Ethan wasn’t able to move out of Blake’s way fast enough before he found himself pressed up against the wall, Blake’s body colliding with his. “You feel it,” Blake said angrily, rubbing his erection against Ethan’s thigh. “You always enjoyed angry sex, E. I’m willing to give it to you. Beau won’t give you that. He’ll treat you like you might break.”
Ethan glared down at Blake and then shoved him back. He hated that Blake thought he knew so fucking much. Ethan did get the impression that Beau was handling him with kid gloves, trying to make sure he didn’t push him too hard, which was partially why Ethan had exerted his dominance earlier.
He’d needed the control.
And yes, Blake was correct in saying that Ethan liked it rough. He liked spontaneous sex. Mainly the kind that lacked any sort of emotion. Fucking for the sake of fucking.
But then again, that was before Beau. What he’d shared with Beau had been different. The man himself was different. He made Ethan feel different.
Shit.
Not helping.
“Get out,” Ethan snarled. “And give me the fucking key.”
Blake surprised Ethan when he handed over the key, his face reflecting the same ferocity that Ethan felt.
“I won’t let him do this to us,” Blake said softly, too softly.
“He isn’t doing anything. What you and I had is over.” Not to mention it didn’t even compare to what Ethan found himself beginning to feel for Beau. Not that he could share that little revelation. The best thing to do was to put this on Blake. Make him believe he’d been the one to end this, although Ethan knew that it had come to an end a long time ago. “You gave me a fucking ultimatum, remember?”
“Yeah, I remember. And now Beau’s stepped in and what? He gets all of you? I just got pieces?”
You didn’t even get that much, Ethan thought to himself.
“Just get out.” Ethan didn’t want to have this conversation with Blake. The man was jealous, and the hatred he saw in his eyes when he mentioned Beau’s name made Ethan nervous.
“I’m not leaving. Not until you admit that you care about me.”
Ethan shook his head but didn’t say a word.
“I put up with you for months, E. I tolerated this depression or whatever it is that’s wrong with you. I settled for you giving me minutes, versus days. And for what? So Beau can take you from me. No, bullshit! I earned your love!”
Ethan had a feeling that Blake was stepping off of the curb of sanity and right onto Crazy Street. Earned his love? That didn’t even make any fucking sense.
“There wasn’t anything there to begin with,” Ethan finally said, feeling shitty for stating the truth, but not sure what other option he had.
Blake stood up straight, the anger and determination on his face twisting into something evil. Something Ethan had seen before.
“You know, maybe you’re right. Maybe there wasn’t anything.” Blake turned toward the door and Ethan breathed a sigh of relief.
Too soon.
Blake spun on him, a vengeful gleam in his eyes as he said, “I guess it’s a good thing I never stopped looking for it elsewhere. Remember when I said I was only with that guy once? Well, I lied. In fact, he wasn’t the only guy I was fucking on the side.”
Ethan felt physically ill all of a sudden.
“That’s right,” Blake said, his tone dropping so low, Ethan barely heard him. “I knew from the beginning that you were nothing special. So, don’t feel bad for me because I made sure that I got what I needed. And it damn sure wasn’t from you.”
When Blake finally stormed out, Ethan stared at the closed door for a moment, his stomach churning. Once he was convinced Blake wasn’t coming back, Ethan leaned against the door and closed his eyes.
Had that really happened?
Blake had been fucking around on him? Honestly, Ethan didn’t care about that part of it. No, his mind was still replaying Blake’s statement: I knew from the beginning that you were nothing special.
Part of him was starting to believe that.
A minute later, he let all of his anger out with a brutal roar, one that made his throat hurt and his head ache.
This was the exact fucking reason why he didn’t have relationships.
They never worked out.