Hard Ride, Part 2 by Opal Carew

“No.” Liv stared at him defiantly.
    Shock glared at her. “What do you mean ‘No’?”
    She crossed her arms over her chest. “I mean I’m not going.”
    â€œThe hell you aren’t.” He grabbed her wrist and yanked her with him, then dragged her up the stairs. He pushed her into the bedroom. “Now pack.”
    Instead, she went and sat on the bed.
    â€œLiv, I’m not kidding.”
    She stared at him speculatively.
    â€œLet’s just talk about this for a minute,” she said in her most reasonable tone.
    â€œWe don’t need to talk. I’ve made my decision.”
    â€œWell, that’s the whole problem, isn’t it? You’ve made
your
decision.”
    â€œYou said you’d do whatever I say.”
    â€œIn the bedroom,” she clarified. “And we both know that meant during sex, but now you don’t want to have sex with me.”
    â€œThat’s not true.”
    She pursed her lips. “It is true, at least since you found out I’m not experienced.”
    â€œIt’s not your lack of experience that’s the issue.”
    â€œWhat then?” Anger bubbled inside her. “Because of what happened to me?”
    Her heart ached. He was judging her. Because she’d gotten herself into a stupid situation. And that stupid guy had taken advantage of that situation and … Damn it, because of that, she had stayed away from relationships. Had been afraid to let anyone close.
    God damn it, she was so broken.
    â€œLiv, why don’t you understand? I don’t want to be the second man who forces you into sex.”
    â€œWhat?” She stared at him in shock.
    â€œI coerced you to sign a contract. To have sex with me. You needed money and I took advantage of the situation.” He picked up her backpack and set it on the bed. “That was wrong. And even worse now that I know what happened to you.” He stared at her. “I’m no better than that guy.”
    â€œShock, it’s not the same thing. I know you would never …”
    She frowned and shook her head. She wanted to take his hand and tell him how much she’d wanted to be with him all those years ago. How much she’d dreamed of him taking her into his arms and kissing her. Touching her.
    But after the incident happened … she’d been afraid. Afraid to be touched. Afraid to trust.
    So she’d pushed him away. Subtly at first. She found excuses to slow down the activities they did together. Like running in the park, which they did a few of times a week, became twice a week, then once. And she stopped going with him to see the old movies they showed at the campus center on Tuesdays. They weren’t dates, just two friends spending time together, but she’d always wanted them to be more. Before “the incident.”
    Then, when he’d seemed to feel her slipping away, he actually asked her out on a real date. And she flatly refused, telling him she just wanted to stay friends. Over the following month, she’d discontinued all their time together, even studying, until they saw each other only in class.
    She hadn’t been able to handle more than that. Not while she longed to be closer to him. If they could have truly been just friends …
    But she’d wanted more … and couldn’t handle that.
    She realized he’d unzipped her bag and had grabbed a handful of clothes that she’d unpacked into an empty drawer in the dresser before she’d gone down to breakfast and was pushing them into the empty backpack.
    â€œShock?”
    At her hesitant tone, he glanced her way.
    â€œPlease stop,” she implored. “I don’t want to go home.” She reached for his callused hand and held it in her own. “What we’ve started here … it’s been good for me. I’m…” —she dropped her gaze, letting it fall to their joined hands—