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“Because I worried it would put a bigger target on Wes. Because Wes and Max have been through a lot, and it was just easier.”
His cheek rubbed against my shoulder when he looked up, nearly tipping back out of my lap. Bringing my arm up, I cradled him, keeping him where he belonged.
“But they’re good now, and I have you.”
He nodded once. “You do have me.”
I smiled. “Yeah?”
“Always,” he whispered.
I kissed his forehead, and he sighed, snuggling a little farther into me.
“You know,” I said, not wanting to bring it up but also knowing it had to be said. “I can be intense too.”
He glanced up. “I know.”
“Do I scare you?” I asked, forcing the words out of my throat.
He bolted up, bare ass slipping between my legs. I widened them, and he turned, sitting cross-legged between my thighs.
“You don’t scare me, Win. You never have.”
I cupped his face, experiencing an intense urge to make sure he understood. “I won’t hurt you, not ever. I would never hurt you.”
“I know.”
“I mean, I know I hurt you before when I pushed you away, but…”
His hand covered mine where it rested on his face. “Win. I know.”
“Also, I’m possessive. And jealous. Like a lot.” I warned, letting it all spill out. Now that I was all in, I needed him to know exactly how all in I was. I had to make sure it wouldn’t smother him.
“Like that guy you danced with tonight?” I made a face. “I let that slide ‘cause I deserved it. But don’t try that shit on me again, angel. I’ll toss you over my shoulder and haul you back to my bed.”
Something I didn’t expect rolled over his eyes. For a moment, he almost looked panicked. Like a cornered animal. “So you don’t want me to go to parties? Or hang out with my friends?”
I drew back. “What? No. You can do what you want, babe. Party it up. Chill with the bros. But I don’t want some other guy’s hands all over you. And I’ll give you the same respect. No one will be all over me either.”
Lars nodded. “That’s fair.”
I rubbed a hand over my jaw. “I don’t want to control you. I wouldn’t even try. I just…” I paused, not sure how to even communicate how I felt without sounding like an overbearing asshole.
“Just what?” He nudged.
I blew out a breath. “Loving you scares the shit out of me, Lars. The idea of losing you the way I lost my parents, the way I almost lost Wes… I’m haunted by that day in Sweden. How you almost died.”
Lars grabbed me and pulled me in until our foreheads were pressed together. “Tell me.”
“The urge to hold you tight, so fucking tight, is like a heartbeat in me. I want to protect you, keep you safe. Keep you mine. The idea of anyone or anything taking you from me…” I met his eyes. “Seriously, I don’t think I’d survive it.”
“It’s okay,” he whispered, brushing his knuckles across my cheek.
I shook my head. “It’s not, but I don’t know how to be anyway else. I just want you to understand. It’s not really about you. You’re fucking perfect. A fucking angel. It’s about me, how much I…” my voice faltered, then finished in a whisper. “Needyou.”
“I need you too,” Lars whispered back.
I tackled him, both of us falling back on the bed while I kissed the air from our lungs. I coveted the feel of him beneath me, how good it felt to have him all to myself.
