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Instead of trying to take back the words or come up with something else to discuss, I shove a fork full of eggs into my mouth and question whether I need my brain looked at after this ordeal is over.
“So what if I do?”
It takes several seconds for his words to penetrate. When they do, it causes my fork to fall from my grasp as I gape at him. He’s not serious, is he? The steely look in his eyes says I’m not treating this conversation with enough seriousness and consideration as he is. “What?” I manage to squeak out.
Thorin rubs his thumb against his bottom lip thoughtfully. “I was in a meeting this morning going over the events of my birthday partyagain, only to be heard this time. During the meeting, King told me that you weren’t feeling well. Did you know that both King and Aillard have made a point to give me their blessing in pursuing you?”
I gape at him, unsure of what to say.
He continues on. “Dad is even on board, which soon means the entirety of the Ravenscroft will be as well. I was twenty-two when we were together, far different from the man I am today.”
“Your track record isn’t exactly a selling point here,” I point out reluctantly. “This doesn’t seem like you’ve thought this through. It isn’t wise to formulate a relationship in the middle of you blackmailing me.”
“I’m not personally blackmailing you.”
I snort.
His lips twitch again, amusement lighting his face. “If you want to get technical about it, I’m not. Nor am I fronting the money King is using. So really, anything you earn or use via Ward Enterprises is entirely separate from me and what I’m paying them for.”
“This feels out of nowhere.” No, it feels like a long time coming. Still, the ease in which he’s speaking unsettles me. I feel like another shoe is about to drop, too scared to hold out for hope.
“It’s not,” he presses, slowly coming around the counter towards me. “You’ve been feeling it too.”
Honestly I’ve been ignoring the part of my brain trying to encourage this idea of Thorin, claiming to be a changed man, waltzing back into my life again. Life was easier when I was going about my merry way alone, having moved on from this entire sordid affair.
The wordaffairin my mind brings a scorching heat into my lungs. Isn’t that what my relationship with him had been reduced to? I was the mistress, the homewrecker, the one who purposely set out to land a big fish even though those are false accusations and hurtful terms. Even now, knowing he’s single, it doesn’t quite feel right.
Actually it feels like kismet and I know better than to trust it.
“Bex,” he coaxes.
“I don’t want to do this with you again,” I lie.
“We didn’t do it right the first time. This time I swear it’ll be different. And not in the same way where I’ve not learned my lesson. IknowI fucked up. I know why I did what I did, and I went to therapy after everything was over. I haven’t cheated in any relationship prior to or since we were together. It’s my one fuck-up. Something I will admit aloud to the media if that will prove to you that I do indeed want to be here. With you.” He reaches out and tucks my hair behind my ear, slowly trailing his fingers over my cheek as they retreat. “I care about you. Don’t you care about me?”
The breath in my lungs stalls. Twenty year old Bex prior to being married would be grinning wide, jumping up and down about the feelings she has being returned by her crush. But twenty-eight year old me is doubtful this will be any different than another catastrophe with our background.
“Don’t say no.”
I scowl at the cajoling voice he’s using. “Don’t peer pressure me, Thorin. You’re asking to do what, exactly? Date me? Parade me around for the cameras to make sure the lie you’re feeding the media is believable?”
Tension in his neck is obvious as he grits his teeth together. “This has nothing to do with the media and everything to do with the fact every time you’re within eyesight I want to bend you over the closest surface and fuck you raw. Or listen to you laugh, or watch your emotions play across your face which inevitably leads to the fucking visual playing havoc in my mind at all times.”
Holy shit. I blink several times to dissipate the image his words bring to light in my imagination. Hell, even in my memories. My cheeks flame an undesirable shade of red as air becomes difficult to suck in. The throbbing behind my eyes pauses as if the mere idea of getting laid is enough to snap me out of my migraine. “Thorin,” I manage to get out but my brain seems to clap out on formulating any sort of response.
“I want to date you, court you, whatever fucking term you want,” he continues on, undeterred by my lack of comment. “I’m tired of fighting what I want simply because it could go wrong. So what? At least this way, if we go down in flames, we went down knowing there wasn’t anyone else to cause the fire.”
We would be our own demise starting from a clean slate. “Okay.” I barely feel the word leave my lips before my head begins to nod a few seconds later.
“Okay?” he echos, almost like he’s not sure he heard me correctly.
“I’ll agree to a date,” I announce. “But not right now.” I point towards my eye where it’s throbbing. “Migraine.”
“A nap should help. The medicine I gave you should kick in soon, then a nap.” His brow furrows. “Unless you have worse ones that make you sick.”
“I get nauseous a lot,” I say. “Not to the point I throw up, though that’s happened a time or two. Right now, it’s just pounding behind my eyes. It should clear up by tomorrow.” I exaggerate the frown I toss at him. “The nap I was trying to take before your incessant pounding was supposed to help.”
A flush stains his cheeks. “Sorry about that.”
