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Holy shit. He really is. I’d figured, obviously, but this was too much. Especially when I just feltsaferwith Isaac. Though, perhaps I shouldn’t. Not with the lies and the fact that he’s just told me he’s withCyril.
“We aren’t friends if you’re in agreement with their ownership shit,” I tell him, tearing my gaze from his skin as he looks at me once more.
“Why?”
“Because I’m a fuckingperson, you asshole. I’m not a puppy, or a rabbit, or something else that can be owned. And I’m not into that, either. Especially outside of the bedroom.” It’s a stupid thing to say, but I’m trying to make a point.
Slowly Isaac turns and looks around the apartment pointedly as if he hadn’t gotten a good look before. “You live…in a studio apartment,” he tells me slowly like it’s me who’s confused. “Your bed is right over there…so aren’t weinyour bedroom?” His smile is wide and proud. He reminds me of a golden retriever, damn it.
“Wow,” I say, my voice still quiet. “Get the fuck out of my apartment, you arrogant,psychopathic-”
“That’s the kicker, though, isn’t it?” His apologetic smile remains. “Iama psychopath. So I don’t really feel bad here. I’m not really arrogant; I don’t think. Ashe and Cy are much worse than me. And so is Ez, on a good day.”
I don’t want to have a conversation with him about the other Lost Boys.
“You don’t own me,” I say, and some stupid part of me has to fight the urge to break into song.
“But I saved your life,” he reminds me slowly. “Wesaved your life. Without us, you’d probably be dead.” He shrugs. “So why wouldn’t we own the life we saved. Ipromisethat I’ll take such good care of you.” He pauses, then goes on. “Can I see it?”
I know what he means immediately and shake my head slowly. “Not on your fucking life.”
“All right.” He blinks, and I think for a minute he’s going to pull away. “I don’t have to see it right now if you don’t want me to.”
“Iwantyou to get out.”
“I can do that…in a minute,” Isaac says, pausing to wait out a roll of thunder that shakes my windows. “I don’twant to. I want to stay here with you.”
“I don’t want you to."
“Which is why I won’t, Ari.” I hate that he sounds so patient. And Idespisethat he’s grown up into the kind of guy I’d swoon for. I want to ask him what happened. I want to ask him if he’s okay, which he seems to be, or if kid-Isaac wasokay. Somehow, though, I doubt I’ll like the answer.
“You don’t…really get to own me,” I say again, trying to makehimunderstand. “I’m a fucking person, Isaac.”
"You’re a very pretty, veryfuckableperson,” Isaac agrees. “No one’s going tohurtyou. Well…” he trails off. “Unless you’re into that kind of thing. No one wants to do youharm.”
“I feel harmed already.”
He sighs out a breath through his nose and leans forward suddenly. “For someone who acts so scared of me, you’re doing your best to make me want to fill that mouth of yours, so stop trying to have the lastword.” His hand tangles in my hair, and lightning flickers through my apartment, so bright and close that I can’t see for a moment.
When I blink away the light, I’m surprised to find that the power has gone out as well, plunging us into darkness lit only by the lightning outside.
His fingers in my hair tighten, and he leans forward to slot his knees between my thighs while he forcefully tugs my chin up.
“I thought you were leaving,” I say quickly, feeling his other hand come to rest on my waist.
“I’m going to leave,” he assures me. “Since youreallydon’t want me here. Though I don’t know why. We could cuddle.”
“I don’t want to cuddle you.”
“Excuse you.” Isaac’s breath is hot against my lips, and my lips part slightly of their own accord. “You’ve always had a crush on me, especially when we were kids. And look at you already opening your mouth for me like a good girl. Is that what you’re waiting for, maybe? Me to tell you what a gorgeous, sweet girl you are?”
I have no idea where the words come from, but however they got here, they’re making mehot. My stomach flutters and I swear my mouth opens a little wider as if my body wants to give him every invitation in the world to keep going. I hate how my thighs tighten around his reflexively, and I wish I were still holding the knife instead of having let him put it down behind me.
“N-no,” I say. “That’s not what I–”
“That’s okay because I’d love for you to be a bad girl for me just as much. So take your pick, Ari. Praise or punishment?”
I’m not picking because this is definitely not really happening. Thankfully, the question is definitely rhetorical, judging by the way he seals our lips together. The hand not in my hair snakes up to hold my jaw, and he holds my facejust soin order to explore it as much as he wants. He moves my face as he pleases, making me feel like adoll.
