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Not being able to contact him.
Because I do it just to say hi to him.
Or tell him about the book that I downloaded. That never would’ve been possible if not for him. Or that I stayed up all night to read it.
That’s what friends do, don’t they?
They talk to each other. They text and call.
And while I know that he doesn’t feel like a friend or only like a friend, I don’t know what else to call it.
When Reign doesn’t answer me, I say, “And so I came here because I wanted to ask you to unblock it and ask why you blocked it in the first place. And I have to tell you that —”
My words cut off when he pulls my head back.
Yanksit back, actually, with his hand in my hair.
Actually his hand is in my braid. It’s wrapped around my braid.
Sotightlythat my neck is all craned up and stretched and even though I’ve never been in a position like this, where I’m so thoroughly taken over and dominated, I don’t feel scared.
Nothing about his angry eyes or his rough hands is scary to me.
It’s all thrilling. And exhilarating and euphoric.
“Your boyfriend know that you’re here?” he rumbles, his tone biting. “Being my friend.”
I swallow and he watches the play of the delicate muscles in my throat like some kind of a predator. “He —”
“Because I don’t think he’s gonna like it very much. You,” his fingers tug on my hair, “withme.”
I flex my thighs around his slim hips and fisthishair in response. “Ex-boyfriend.” His brows snap together and I explain, “You said boyfriend. He’s not. He’s still my ex.”
His frown thickens even more before he mutters, “Jesus. He didn’t call, did he?”
“He did. The very next night.”
“He apologize?”
I nod, or try to.
But his grip in my hair stops me,thrillsme anew.
“Yes.” Then, “You asked him to, didn’t you?”
“I shouldn’t have had to.”
And this is the guy I’m supposed to cut ties with.
Insanity.
If Lucas thinks I’m giving Reign up, he’s fuckinginsane.
“So then,” he continues, studying my features, “why the fuck is he still your ex?”
“Because I choose you.”
He blanches.
