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“I don’t want that,” she says firmly. “I only want you.”
“Forever,” I snarl.
“Forever,” she moans.
“So?” I go on.
“I don’t know,” she says. “I guess I’ve never really given it any thought. I mean—no, it’s silly.”
“What?” I say. “Tell me, Kimberly. Honesty, always. Remember?”
Her smile makes her face bright, her eyes dancing.
Something within me shatters.
I mutter a silent prayer to whatever force brought me to this woman.
How did I ever live without her?
“When I was a kid, I used to really love pottery. Jacks – that’s my sister, Jackie – she would take me to these classes. I became obsessed with it for a little while, but it can be quite expensive when you’re broke. It’s not some amazing aspiration or anything, but I think I’d like to do some more of that, a lot more.”
“Kimberly, my queen,” I tell her, smirking. I can’t remember the last time I had this much fun. “As my woman, you will have so many pots you won’t know what to do with them. I will make it my life goal.”
She giggles. “I know it’s silly.”
“No,” I say, serious now. “I mean it. If that’s what you want to do, then I’ll give you all the time in the world to do it. Maybe you could fit it in around managing Jackie’s art career.”
She flinches. “Whoah, that’s freaky.”
I smirk, reassured that my instincts were right.
“You’ve thought about it,” I note.
“Yeah, we’ve talked about it,” she says. “I’m not bad at logistical stuff, organizational stuff. I had to get good at it. Jackie is a little scatterbrained. Maybe it’s the curse of being an artist.”
“I’d like to meet Jackie,” I tell her. “And I’d like for you to meet my mother, too.”
“What about your father?” she asks. And then she snaps her hand over her mouth. “Oh, I’m sorry. I’m such a klutz.”
“No, it’s fine,” I assure her, wiping the savage look that must’ve distorted my features. “He died when I was eighteen. It wasn’t anything violent, just a life of drinking and smoking too much. Maybe that’s why I hardly ever touch the stuff. Anyway, how about we all go out on my yacht together tomorrow afternoon?”
“Won’t it be really cold?”
“Don’t worry,” I smirk. “I’ll keep you warm.”
“What, with my sister and your mom there?”
“Shit, fair point,” I laugh. “Okay, I’ll buy you a warm coat instead. That work?”
“Can we bring Tinkerbell?” she asks.
“Of course,” I tell her. “You can bring anyone you want, except for a man. Unless you want me to tip him overboard.”
“You’re the only man I want,” she says, sending a flare of rightness through my body.
“So it’s settled,” I say, nodding.
“Oh, wait a sec,” she says. “I’m supposed to be working tomorrow.”
“Quit,” I tell her.
She gasps. “Are you serious? Quit, just like that?”
“You belong to me now,” I growl. “You never have to worry about money again. For the rest of our lives, I’m going to take care of you. If you want to work, you can. But you can call up your boss right now and quit and it won’t affect your bills, your rent, your anything. You’re mine, Kimberly, and that means security. For life.”
“It would be good to stick it to Alexis,” she murmurs.
“She’s your boss?”
“My supervisor,” she says. “She’s supposed to help with the workload, but all she really does is sit on her butt swiping through Instagram. Or she’ll head out of the office for meetings, but mysteriously always comes back with a new haircut or her nails done.”
“The job isn’t your passion,” I tell her. “You don’t need the money anymore. So quit. Quit, Kimberly, and come out on the water with me.”
She bites her lip. I’m learning to read all the different ways she uses that gesture now, fueled by lust or uncertainty or fear.
This one is uncertainty shimmering in her eyes.
“What is it?” I ask.
“What if I quit and then you change your mind?” she murmurs. “What if you get tired of me after we … you know.”
Fuck like animals, I supply silently.
“What if this is all a trick?”
“Kimberly,” I growl. “You need to understand this. I would never trick you. I’d die before I did that. I’d fucking kill before I let that happen. Why would you think that?”
“I’ve been tricked before,” she murmurs.
“Tell me,” I say gruffly.
“It’s just—it’s so silly. When I was in high school, there was this jock, you know, the clichéd popular boy. He asked me out to prom and, really, it wasn’t like I was desperate to go with him or anything. But nobody had ever paid attention to me. I guess I wanted to feel special.
“I said yes. Jackie gave me some of her savings so I could buy a dress. I felt so pretty in that dress … so seen. He said he’d send a limo to pick me up. I waited and waited. There was no limo.
