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He smirks, shaking his head. “I could never pretend that. I just don’t want to push you. To freak you out.”
After a pause, he opens his arms. I sink desperately into them, not caring if it makes me look needy. The cages in my mind where I put Eva and Adam, the fight and everything else, the men and the mayhem… I let it all go in his embrace.
He squeezes me so tight, it’s like nothing could ever hurt me, could never even come close. I bury my hands in his back, sinking my fingernails in firmly, never wanting to let him go. Then something in the quality of his embrace changes.
He loosens his grip slightly, then tightens his arms, like he’s correcting an instinct. His breath gets quicker, more savage, with more huskiness in it.
“What is it?” I whisper, thinking maybe the lust-filled animal in him is taking over again, the one that lost control the first time he laid his hand on my leg.
“You want to have my babies? You want us to be forever?”
His words stab into me.
I step away, turn, look down, and realize.
The notebook was open on the bed.
He’s seen my words.
CHAPTEREIGHTEEN
Bryson
She turns back to me, my fragile and beautiful woman, with her hair still wet from the shower and straighter than usual. Her features are tight and make her look more vulnerable than usual, her eyes wide, shock rioting through her.
“I…”
“Don’t lie to me,” I growl, unable to keep the savageness out of my voice.
I’ve just seen words that tell me she wants everything I do.
Forever. Babies.
It was right there, in black and white.
I should think about Adam and what a mess this will be for him. That makes me wonder why he’d be so willing to leave us alone.
After the fight, after everything fell apart.
“I didn’t write this recently,” she says quickly, as though she thinks I’m angry. “This was years ago. This was when my obsession star—”
Started, but she cut herself off, her hand raised as if she were going to clamp it over her mouth. But then she lowers her hand, shaking her head like she can’t believe she just said that.
I remember what she said about me casting her hand when she was a kid. It meant nothing to me, but it meant a lot to her.
“Explain,” I tell her firmly.
She takes a step back, her hands raised. “Are you mad?”
I laugh because it’s the only thing I can do, the only outlet for these feelings raging inside me. To brand themmadwould be like branding an entire storm, the wind and the fury and the churning of the clouds, aslightning, just lightning, but it’s everything.
My seed throbs, though I’ve done my best to calm that instinct since the men drugged her. The last thing she needs is the beast in me unleashing on her after what happened—what almost happened.
“Explain,” I say again.
She sits on the bed beside me. I switch off the hungry part of me. Or I try to.
It’s the part that says, now I’ve seen she wants my babies. I can’t waste any time making it happen. I’ve got to tear off her PJ bottoms, the material hugging those thick, delicious thighs, and take her eager pussy now.
