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Despite my best intentions, I still gravitate to the door with the bolt on the outside. There’s no sound from within. No drone of the television volume, no footsteps or shower running. The silence is deafening.
I draw back the bolt without thinking and crack the door open. The room is in darkness, though it’s not yet midnight. I step inside, and the illumination from the hallway reveals the form in the bed, still and quiet. The low, even breathing tells me she’s asleep.
I should leave. That’s what I intend to do, but for some reason my feet don’t get with the programme. I remain where I am, watching. Listening.
Wishing things were different.
I give myself a mental shake and take a step back.
“Jack?”
I freeze.
She shoves herself up on one elbow and rakes her hair back to peer at me. “Is that you?”
I manage to find my voice. “Just checking you’re okay.”
“What time is it?” Her voice is heavy with sleep.
“Nearly midnight. I didn’t mean to wake you.”
She squints at me and reaches for the bedside lamp. “Is everything all right?”
“Yes. Fine. I’ll leave you to sleep.”
I should leave. Now. I don’t.
She sits up, hugging the duvet to her chest. Her shoulders are bare, and I strongly suspect she’s naked under the bedclothes. I’d give my left bollock to find out for sure.
Maybe it’s the ultimatum set by Ethan, or perhaps the residual adrenaline from this evening’s little adventure, but the sense of urgency is near-overwhelming.
I want her. I need her.
And fuck, I mean to have her.
I take a step towards the bed.
Her brow furrows. “What is this, Jack?”
“Tell me to go.”
“What?” She seems perplexed.
I can’t say I blame her.
“Tell me to go. To leave you alone.”Please.
“When have you ever done what I told you?”
“Never.” I reach the bed and sit on the edge. I cup her jaw in my hand. “But this time, I will.”
“I don’t understand. What are you saying?”
“If you tell me to go, I will. That’s the only thing that will stop me fucking you. Right here, right now.”
Her eyes widen, the deep cornflower blue reflected in the soft lamplight. Her lips part. She’s about to say something.
I wait. I give her time. Self-control wrestles with desire, and despite my words, I’m not sure which will win.
