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I shrug. “It’s the only reason I can come up with.”
“What about the fact that I don’t want you to experience pain in any capacity unless it’s the pain of my cock driving into your cunt? What about the idea that you’re hurt because you’re so fucking scared of me that you don’t realize I would kill someone to keep you safe? Fuck my car. I want your blood on it, my cock, and anywhere else that’d mark me as yours.”
“Jesus.” My voice is breathy, almost non-existent. “Hayden, don’t.”
His gaze hardens. “Don’t what? Tell the truth? There are too many lies between us for me to continue adding to them. I’m done with that.”
He stalks toward the elevators with me in his arms, my mouth hanging open and my lungs squeezing as I gasp for breath. How can one man affect me so profoundly that I can’t control my own body’s response to him?
“My feet don’t hurt, Hayden,” I whisper against the side of his neck. He swallows, and his Adam’s apple bobs within his throat. I watch it in fascination, drinking in his masculinity. “You don’t need to worry about me.”
“I don’t know how to stop myself.”
My heart lurches in my chest. I rest my forehead in the crook of his neck and sigh, needing a moment to compose myself before I say something irrevocable. Something that has to do with the feelings swirling inside me and gaining momentum with every confession that comes out of his mouth.
We reach the elevator, and the doors glide open with a soft chime, revealing an interior paneled entirely in mirrors. My reflection is duplicated into infinity, surrounded by endless replicas that stare back at me. Hayden steps inside, and nerves zip along my spine at the idea of being in an enclosed space with him. Overhead, the soft lights cast a flattering glow, enhancing each reflection and revealing truth. The effect is both dizzying and disorienting, seeing myself as I am in this moment.
A woman who wants everything Hayden will give me.
Good or bad.
Pleasure or pain.
Joy or heartache.
I can’t leave without knowing how this is going to end.
* * *
The penthouse isa study in contrasts, mirroring the man who owns it. One minute Hayden is comforting me on his lap, and the next he’s filled to the brim with rage, the violence within him leaking out for all to see. The light and the dark, the two distinct entities inside him.
The place is similar, filled with stark blacks that are offset by pristine whites. In the living room are floor-to-ceiling windows that offer a view of the glittering city skyline, but inside is a smooth minimalism. A white marble floor stretches the length of the open concept, reflecting the bright colors just outside. The walls meet the windows in clean lines, painted a deep charcoal, and the furnishings are sparse, each snowy-white piece angled in front of a jet black fireplace.
Like Hayden, this place is perfection, but lacking in warmth. In the things that make it welcoming and inviting. A home.
“This is beautiful,” I say, more to myself than him. I highly doubt he’s concerned with my opinion, but being here resurrects memories from my old life, one full of luxury. I don’t miss the money as much as I miss the security it brought. Living in a place like this ensures I’d never lose a moment of sleep worrying about someone breaking in.
Like a stalker.
The thought dampens my enthusiasm of the opulence surrounding me. Not only that, but it brings about a worry I hadn’t considered before. Am I putting Hayden in danger by being here?
When he heads further inside, I tap his chest, bracing myself against the subject matter. And his reaction.
“Wait,” I say.
Hayden stops and looks at me, brows snapping together in displeasure and confusion. “What is it?”
“I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to be here.”
“Because you’re scared to be here with me?”
I nod and his body stiffens against mine. “But not in the way you’re thinking. I’m scared for you.”
“Why?” he asks.
I bite my bottom lip and worry it between my teeth, unsure of how to communicate my concerns in a way that’ll get him to take me seriously. Or not too seriously that he explodes. There’s a fine line I’m walking when it comes to Hayden. He’s like a bomb, ready to detonate with a single spark.
“Stop that,” he says, his voice sharp. When I scrunch my face at him, he blows out a breath. “When you do that to your lip, all I can think about is fucking your mouth.”
