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I am not.
I just let him fuck me to get all the tension between us sorted out. That’s it.
That’sall.
I try to grab the towel. “I can do it myself.”
“Stay still.” He gives every red strand individual care as if he’s on a mission.
“I’m not a baby,” I grumble.
“No, but you’re careless about your body’s needs.”
“I can towel-dry my own hair.”
“Which you didn’t. Stop making this into a fucking event and finding an issue with everything.”
I open my mouth to give a scathing reply but choose to close it. I’m being defensive, completely and utterly so, and if I say anything, it’ll only serve as proof against me.
“I gather you’re not used to people taking care of you,” he speaks softly in the silence of the room—or as softly as Kingsley can.
“I’m independent.”
“Is that another word for I’m scared to open up?”
“Only a sexist asshole would assume an independent woman is that way because she’s scared of something.”
“I’m not assuming, sweetheart. I know it for a fact, and if sexist is the label you want to slap on me, by all means. Whatever helps you sleep at night. The fucks I have to give are 404 not found. Just know that no amount of resistance on your part will change my mind about what I’ll do to you.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“Exactly what you heard. I’ve decided you’re mine for the time being, and that means no other man will touch you aside from me. Oh, and you’ll come here every other night and spend it in my bed.”
I hate that something squeezes in my heart and my stomach tightens. What the hell? “Spend it in your bed?”
“Or shower or counter or wall. Basically, any surface that can be used to fuck you senseless.”
“And you just decided that all on your own without, I don’t know, talking to me about it or anything?”
“The part about you being mine is absolute. The second part, which concerns you showing up here, is negotiable, but if you want me to go to your apartment, kick the audience out first.”
“Wow. You sound so confident about the fact that I would agree to be yours.”
“I’m rich, handsome, and illegally smart, not to mention I have a dick you can’t keep up with. I’m a catch. Highly recommended. So why wouldn’t you agree?”
“I don’t know, due to the fact that I don’t even like you, maybe?”
“You don’t have to like me to fuck me, sweetheart. Your pussy would gladly back my claim.”
I slap a hand on his chest and push him away—or try to, anyway. “Allow me to use your favorite line and decline.”
He removes the towel from my head but doesn’t give me back my space. The color of his eyes darkens like a storm brewing in the distance with pure intention of mass destruction. “Your stubbornness isn’t so cute anymore.”
“It was never supposed to be.” I glare and his jaw clenches.
We remain like that for several long beats. Like a tug of war between two powerful generals. It’s almost impossible to maintain eye contact with him for an extended time, but I’m ready to be drained to zero if it means holding my own.
“Let’s hear it,” he finally says.
