Fell In Love With My Roomy Chapter 93

"I've never felt this way before, whatever it is."

"No," I mumbled, "it's over if I give in." He wrapped his arms around me, and I could feel his embrace. I sighed as he put his hand on the back of my head and ran his fingers through my hair.

"I'll make up for this, sweetheart. I promise."

"Stop making promises," I said stubbornly, and he sighed. "You have no idea how embarrassed I felt here tonight." I couldn't speak loudly because of his chest, but I knew he could hear me.

"I apologize," he whispered, and as his hands moved across my back, I felt a tingling sensation. My body was contradicting my mind. "I'm sorry I left you here, Juls. I care about you."

He leaned over and gave me a quick kiss. I hesitated, but as soon as it happened, I was back in the moment with him. I didn't have to forget what he had done, I didn't have to be happy about it, and he deserved my anger right now. I just needed him.

He pushed the blanket down my body with his hands, and I gasped for a moment, unsure of what this meant. Was it a good idea to make love now? My heart started racing, and I put my arms around the back of his neck and pulled him closer. "Juls."

"Shh," I mumbled and took a brief pause.

I didn't want him to stop or overthink the situation. I grabbed his shoulders and pulled him back onto the bed. He hummed in surprise, and I kept my lips close to his. My mind was racing with so many emotions that I couldn't think clearly.

I pushed him back against the headboard and straddled his lap, placing one leg on each side of his hips. He was already aroused, and I could tell he wanted this just as much as I did.

"Juls," he mumbled and pulled away. I gave him a shrug and moved my lips up the side of his neck. "Slow down, sweetheart-"

"What?" I retorted. "I thought you wanted to be close." I met his eyes now. "So, let's be close," I whispered, watching his chest rise and fall.

"I don't want to do this with you while you're mad at me," he said quietly, though he seemed very interested in what was happening.

"Well, right now, I don't want to do anything else with you." I just shrugged my shoulders in response. "Either take it or don't."

I didn't like saying that, but he had already hurt me today. Even though he said we would be there for each other, he left me to handle too much on my own.

He sighed and looked puzzled, but he reached over to his nightstand and retrieved a condom, placing it beside him. I could see a rare intensity in his dark eyes.

I leaned back and kissed him. He tried to take control, but I resisted, quickly pressing my lips against his and pushing him against the headboard. When his hands firmly massaged my buttocks, I almost moaned, but I stopped myself and took a sharp breath instead. I wouldn't let him take control because he was always in charge in the bedroom, and I wanted to be in control.

As his hands squeezed my breasts, heat surged through my body, making me feel both excited and angry. I had so much to say to him, but I didn't want to say any of it.

I took a daring step and pulled down his boxers. This time was different from the previous two, driven by desire and anger, and it was an unfamiliar concept. It wasn't what I had imagined.

I couldn't figure out why I couldn't just forget about him, or why I had let things get so complicated. I had wanted to be with him for a long time, and I still did, but the worry that he might not be what I wanted was gnawing at me.

"Stop," he gasped, pulling up his boxers and pushing my hands away. I took a deep breath. The dynamics in the room had changed, and now he held all the power. "Juls, I'm not going to do this with you."

"Then I'm sleeping somewhere else," I replied, shooting him a disapproving look before getting up from his lap. I retrieved my blanket from the floor and moved to the room's couch to lie down. As I turned away from him, hot tears streamed down my face. I was overwhelmed with emotion.

"Juls, I know I made a mistake," he whispered from across the room. "But angry sex won't fix anything."

"You didn't seem to mind," I said with a shrug, wiping away a tear of frustration.

"I like you, Juls, and I enjoy being intimate with you, but this isn't right, and you know it," he whispered. I didn't respond. I no longer wanted to engage with him.

We were thanked by his parents for coming, and despite putting on a pretense of happiness earlier in front of them, I was still upset with Kent.

Once we returned to Rhode Island, we walked back to his car, and I silently packed my bags. I was genuinely upset. I acknowledged that I could be pushy at times, but he had left out crucial information and hadn't been completely open with me. He had left me.

I didn't know how long my anger would last, but it had been more than twelve hours. I hadn't spoken to him yet today, and he appeared tense and anxious, but I didn't care.

"Take me to my parents' house!" I told him, settling into my seat and keeping my gaze fixed on the windshield. He sat down beside me, keys in his lap, looking perplexed. I could tell by the way he looked at me that he had never made such a mistake before.

"Juls," he whispered softly, and I tried to maintain the coldest expression I could. I wanted to cry, but I didn't want him to know. "What's going on? What else do you want me to say? I've already apologized, sworn that I'm sorry, and explained why I left. What more do you want?"

He sounded desperate, like he genuinely wanted to make amends, but I wasn't sure if I was ready to fix things. I wanted him to come back, but I was feeling overwhelmed.

"I know you feel bad," I replied with a shrug. "I appreciate that you said it, but saying sorry doesn't make everything right."

"I know it was tough for you, and I'm sorry I was gone for so long. I just thought you'd be fine because you're so easygoing and pleasant to talk to."

"At my core, Kent, I'm an anxious person," I muttered to myself as I ran my fingers through my hair. "I know you may think differently, but everything I do is carefully considered. I worry about a lot of things, which would be fine if we had grown up in a similar way, and your parents lived in a small house like mine. But I don't fit in that way. When you left me last night when I needed you, I was a nervous wreck and couldn't cope."

I took a deep breath and fought back tears. I felt like crying, but I held it in. I could feel a lump in my throat forming rapidly, and my mouth was getting dry.

"I didn't know where you went, and that made me even more anxious about your well-being. I didn't know much about your family, so I was unsure how to handle the situation," I muttered, shaking my head. "You could have simply told me you needed some space, but you can't just vanish for hours."

"Yes, Juls," he said with a sad tone. "But I wasn't doing anything wrong. I was also trying to help our situation, and it was just nice to get out of my house."

"You don't..." I hesitated for a moment, knowing this might not end well, but I needed to express my feelings. "You have no idea how much I've contemplated this," I whispered, gesturing between us. I shook my head slowly. "But I've just emerged from a bad relationship built on a web of lies. I understand you're not like him, and I care about you much more than I ever did about him, but the point is, I can't stand not knowing what's happening. I don't want deceit and confusion, and I know you're not a cheater, but I can't bear feeling like you're always distant and won't talk to me."

Despite the confined space of the car, I was sincere in my words. I despised dishonesty, and I loathed feeling isolated and as if I were shouldering everything alone. Maybe I wasn't ready to date Kent until I'd fully recovered from my breakup with Dane.

"I understand," I blinked when he responded softly. That wasn't the reaction I had expected. "I genuinely do, Juls, and I made a real effort to convey my feelings to you. I tried all weekend, but you and I are different in the sense that you share every thought that crosses your mind. I'm not like that, and I don't always reveal things, but it's not because I want to keep secrets. I'm simply not as outgoing as you. I've never been someone who openly shares personal details, but I want to share them with you. It'll just take some time."

I hadn't considered it from that perspective before. We simply had different communication styles. I was always eager to talk, especially with him, and I could chatter for hours about various topics. Kent wasn't like that. When I inquired about things, he answered. But when I posed a direct question, he typically gave me an answer.

"You're thinking we don't have enough in common," I whispered, feeling a creeping sense of dread.

"I didn't say that," he whispered back. "We're different enough for it to work, but this is new for both of us. It'll get better because like attracts like."

"Will you walk away again if I ask a question that makes you uncomfortable? Will you leave?" I inquired because I genuinely wanted to know his response.

"No, yesterday was just a lot to handle. Being at home, contemplating the need to return to being friends, your palpable tension, which I knew was due to my taking you somewhere you didn't feel at ease to be yourself—all of that made me sad. I don't like being at home, and I don't appreciate being inundated with questions, which is all my dad knows how to do. It was the last thing we talked about before I found you again."

I had inadvertently dumped my frustrations on him. He had been bombarded with a barrage of rapid-fire questions from his dad, and he directed some of that frustration toward me.

"I wasn't angry with you yesterday," he admitted. He sighed, and his hand gently came to rest on mine. It felt like the first touch from him all day, and I flinched slightly. "And I know that's what you think, somewhere in the back of your mind. I was upset about the situation, so I took it out on you. I realize that's not a good thing to do, so I'll do my best not to repeat it."

He was right; I had worried that I had done something to provoke his anger. I didn't want to be the source of his upset.

"I really hate that you won't talk to me," I confessed. He whispered as his thumb traced over my knuckles in a tender manner. "Because when I'm this bewildered, I don't know who else to talk to. I want you, and I feel like a fool for leaving you behind, honey. I messed up something that could have been amazing, and that wasn't right. But I'm sorry for it, and I understand why you're upset. Just stop being so distant around me. I care about you and want to support you."

A tear streams down my cheek, my stomach churns, and a faint smile creeps onto my face. I feel like I've finally gained some insight into Kent, like I've broken through to the real him.

"I'm still upset about being left alone last night," I say in a hushed tone. "But...I'll forgive you if you promise to continue working on this with me."

"I promise," he answers immediately. "You forgive me?" I nod, and he unfastens my seatbelt, gently moving me over to his seat. I shuffle halfway to accommodate this transition. He reclines his seat, and I sigh, wrapping my arms around his neck and resting my cheek against his chest.

"I'm so sorry about the sexual thing," I murmur. "I have no idea what I was thinking, but that's not me, Kent. You were right; it wasn't a good decision."

"Take a breath; everything is okay," he whispers to me, running his hands along my back. "Baby," he continues softly, planting a kiss on the top of my head. I inhale deeply because, after being angry for so long, I finally feel a sense of calm. I'm relieved that we've resolved our differences because I wasn't ready to walk away, and I don't think I'll ever be.