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I nodded. “I promise.”
“You would tell me if it did?”
I swallowed. “Yes.”
He let out a long breath. “Fine.” He turned and walked to the bathroom.
I sat down on the edge of the bed, the book pulled to my chest. A few moments later he walked out. I felt my cheeks flush slightly as I looked at him. I turned my head and closed my eyes.
“What were you reading?” He asked.
“Oh uh, The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe.”
He sat down beside me and smiled at me man, I love that book. My mom used to read it to me at bedtime. I would beg her for just one more page, and she would usually give in,” he laughed. “Have you read it before?”
I nodded. “Yeah, Elena,” I pulled the book away and looked at it. “Yes, it is one of my favorites too.”
He looked at me and laughed. “Well, what do you know? Something we have in common.” I looked at him and nodded. “You take the bed, I will sleep in the chair.” He kissed my cheek before standing up and walking to his closet. He came back out with a blanket, and grabbed one of the pillows off the bed.
I stood up. “I will sleep in the chair, this is your bed.”
“Don't be ridiculous. What kind of man would let a woman sleep in a lounge chair, and take the bed?”
“I don’t need you to,” I sighed and shook my head, tossing the book on the bed, “pretend to be this good guy. To act like you’re something you’re not. What do you want from me?”
“I don’t want anything from you.”
I walked over, shoving him in the chest. “Then why don't you just stop pretending?”
He stumbled back two steps, caught off guard. “Alora I am not pretending. Maybe it started that way, but not anymore. I do actually care about you.”
“Don’t do that!”
“Do what?”
”Feed me that shit! You don't give a crap about me, and when we have given Vigo what he needs, you will just go back to your life, and I will go back to mine.”
“Back to him is what you mean right? Back to this guy you love,” he sneered.
“Yeah, that’s right.”
He stalked towards me. I retreated, taking five big steps backward. Why the hell was I retreating? I don't back down. He caught up with me, grabbing me around the waist, pulling me into his chest. “So when I do this you feel nothing?”
I shook my head, “no.”
His other hand lifted to the side of my face. Running down my cheek, down my neck, “and this.”
I felt my cheeks heat up, the feel of his touch overwhelming me. His hand continued, running under the strap of my tank top. I shook my head.
He smirked. “Liar,” his hand gripped tighter on my waist, his other hand rising to the back of my neck.
I hated the way my body reacted to his touch. The way it made me feel when he stood up to my dad. The look in his eyes when he asked me if something had happened. “I hate you! I don't need a savior.”
His grip on the back of my neck tightened, he slammed my body to his, pulling my head back to look up into his eyes. “Good! Because I told you, I am not a savior,” his teeth clenched together as the word savior rolled from his lips. “Do you know what they call me?”
I nodded against his hand.
“Tell me.”
