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Do you need me to treat you like a worthless bitch that’s only good for being fucked once or twice and then discarded?”
I opened my mouth, just to close it again on a whimper when his grip grew tighter and he eased me back against the wall. “I didn’t say you could speak yet.”
My lips slightly parted on their own accord. He cocked his head and took in my uncontrollable reaction. He leaned in, touching his nose to mine and tightening his grip again, so I felt an obstruction when I swallowed. “I know I scare the shit out of you, but also that fear makes you want me even more.” He eased up so I could speak; I swallowed trying to regain my bearings, still stuck between his solid body and the wall behind me.
“You need someone mentally stable to deal with all the baggage that comes with you. I’m not mentally stable. You have no idea what kind of walking disaster I am and how...crazy I can get. You would either kill me or hate me in the end––maybe both.”
He dropped his hand altogether and took a fraction of a step back to contemplate me. “Are you trying to scare me away? If you are, you’re doing a really shitty job.
“Your warning is only enticing me all the more. Give me your baggage, I can handle it.”
How could he so nonchalantly be okay with everything I’d said? Because of who he is, a little voice whispered. He’s an underground king. He was the best kind of poison to be addicted to because he was immune to the venom I unintentionally injected into others once our relationship ever moved forward.
How could I possibly compare my baggage to his? He could take me on, on his worst days, but could I do the same for him? And then what about…Eva? I couldn’t bring that up yet. I didn’t trust him enough. I didn’t know what he would do with the information or if he already knew and was waiting on me to slip up.
I hadn’t forgotten the look he gave me at the post-reception, the one where he seemed to know exactly what my motive was. And I still couldn’t place why the smell of him was so familiar.
I drove myself fucking crazy, I really did.
It wasn’t fair, because I wanted him in all the ways I could have him even though I knew better. I was reaching for a star that didn’t belong in my sky.
I shut my eyes for a second and heavily exhaled. Upon opening them I took two steps towards his front door He exhaled heavily.
“You’re thinking too much into this too. I want to get to know you. I want you in my house when I get home from dealing with the things I have to deal with. We don’t have to plan our future together within the next five minutes. There are many ways this can go.”
“What if I say you can’t have me?”
He pressed
his chest against my back, caging me in. Leaning down to brush a kiss over my cheek, he spoke softly, his words laced with a darker undercurrent, “You don’t get to dictate what I can and can’t have.”
“Why won’t you give this up?” It was barely audible.
“Because you may not believe in instant connections or love at first sight, but that doesn’t mean I don’t.” He eased back and turned me around, ensuring he had my full attention. “From the second I saw you I was infatuated.” His sincerity shined through again, truth reflected in his golden eyes.
“You’re going to give us a chance. If you keep running from everything you’re afraid of, you’ll never live.”
We bypassed three closed doors and one that led into a bathroom before he came to a set at the end of the hall. My stomach dipped when he pushed them open and we stepped into his room.
A soft table lamp glowed from a nightstand. The faint light from his landscaping shone in through the French doors on the far side of the room. There was a large four poster bed, two matching dressers, a curved flat-screen mounted on the wall, a plush love seat, and a small mini-bar. The masculinity of it all fit him perfectly.
He let me go and made his way to the glass doors, pulling a long blackout curtain across them, making the room darker.
I looked up at a diamond chandelier. The silence and nerves of being in his room needed a distraction.
He made his way back to where I stood and pulled me further into the room. I tried to look anywhere but at him but he wasn’t having it. His hand cupped my jaw and held my head in place. He leaned down without warning and pressed his soft lips to mine, using his thumb to pull my mouth open.
I felt like a juvenile all over again when he chuckled and stroked my tongue with his until I began to reciprocate.
It didn’t take long before I began pulling at his clothes, needing to feel all of him. He pushed my hands away and stepped back, maintaining eye contact as he removed his shirt followed by his slacks.
He moved forward again.
His solid body pressed into mine, slowly walking me backward. The next kiss was hard–impassioned–a signature that marked his ownership of me without my full consent.
“Off,” he broke away and demanded, tugging at the hem of my dress.
I turned, pulling my hair over one shoulder and silently directing him to my zipper. With a well-practiced move, he had the dress undone and pooling at my feet within two seconds.
