“Is it morning?”
“Early morning. The sun’s just come up.”
He must not have slept much. “You should come back to bed.”
A wry grin touches his lips. “I think you might be too sore for that.”
“The bed can be for sleeping,” I reply. “Not that you’ve used it for that.”
“I don’t need much sleep.” He strokes my head. I love it when he does that.
“Want to tell me what business you went to take care of last night?”
“No.”
“I figured, but tell me anyway because I don’t want to be kept in the dark. That feels sucky. My imagination will run wild thinking you’re doing things with other women and shit. I don’t want to have those doubts.”
His finger stops mid-stroke, and he narrows his eyes. “You are having doubts about us?”
“It’s not like we had a conventional dating relationship where we ran into each other at a coffee shop, and you left your number on a napkin.”
The furrow between his eyebrows deepens. “Why would I leave my number on a napkin? You could throw it away.”
I’m distracted by this question. Clutching the sheet to my naked boobs, I struggle into an upright position. “How would you hit on me in a coffee shop? Or wait, would you hit on me?”
“Would I? What kind of question is that? If I saw you in a coffee shop, I’d pay for your food, take your hand, and bring you home. There’s no napkins and numbers and the possibility of other men doing shit around you.” He sounds pissed-off at the idea. I love that, too. He’s very possessive, which might irritate other women, but I need that. It’s reassuring. He doesn’t ask me for anything but to sit back and enjoy his attention. I didn’t even know that kind of relationship existed. He tries to stop frowning, but I can tell even the idea of another man chatting me up isn’t sitting well with him so I direct him back to the subject at hand—Edward.
“Was the business with Edward?”
His scowl is even fiercer. “It was nothing.”
I reach out and touch the back of his hand that has curled into a fist on top of the comforter. “Nothing you did is going to change how I feel about you.”
The dark furrow smooths out, and instead, one eyebrow arches upward in curiosity. “And how exactly do you feel about me?”
It’s my turn to squirm and feel uncomfortable. I never brought up feelings because he’s never brought it up. For some reason, he wanted to marry me. I guess it’s because of the sex thing. He lusted after me and decided that the only way he could have me was with a ring on my finger. I would’ve done him six ways to Sunday without any vows, but I wasn’t turning down the marriage offer. I’m not dumb. Besides, I want him and not just in a carnal way, but I crave him in my life. I seriously can’t imagine what my future would be like without him by my side. I literally don’t want to contemplate it. I want those feelings to be returned, but I’m also terrified of rejection. Most everyone in my life has either abandoned me or, like my stepmom, just sold me off to a skeezy man to pay off debts.
“You don’t need to say anything.” He flips his hand over and captures mine. “Words aren’t necessary.”
“That’s not true,” I blurt out. “I need words. I know they’re dumb, and they’re just sounds, and actions speak louder, yadda yadda, but I need the words; but I won’t ask you to do stuff I refuse to, so here goes.” I close my eyes. “I love you.”
I say it fast, as if it’s one word and not three, and then I wait, eyes tightly shut, breath held. Silence descends like a heavy blanket. It’s suffocating. I want to throw the sheet over my head and rewind to the part where I’m still sleeping and Mikael is still in the chair in front of the unlit fireplace.
A finger tips my head up. “Eyes,” Mikael orders.
My lids flutter up in quick obeisance. There’s a tender expression on his face, but I’m not sure if it’s pity or kindness or what. Panicky, I say, “You don’t have to say it back. You’re right; words aren’t necessary. Words are useless.” I tug on his hand. “Come to bed. We’ll make love and forget all about this.”
“Never.” He bends toward me and stops when his lips are a centimeter from my mouth. “I’m burning this moment into my brain. It’ll be the last thing I see every night before I sleep. I’m not big on words, myself, Aurora, and you might have guessed, but I’m not an expert in love.”
I giggle because, yeah, I suppose he’s right. I didn’t think this hard man with the bodyguard and the big mansion and the beef with Edward was spending a lot of his time loving people, but the truth is that he’s a protector, and that means he does love people. He just expresses it in different ways, and if I think about it, he does love me in his own way. While I probably won’t ever get a full answer on ‘his business,’ I can guess that it had something to do with Edward and the danger that he posed to me. That’s love. I don’t need the words. I’m about to say that when he kisses me. Hard. With a lot of tongue. Enough that I can’t remember the conversation we were having. I drop the sheet and wrap my arms around his neck.