Sliding his hand to the front of my throat, he forces me against the wall of the hallway and leans his heavy, long body into mine. I whimper in both fear and delight at the pressure. My pulse hammers away on the other side of his palm. He releases my wrists to place his hand on the wall above me, and his leg rises between my thighs while his lips make a meal out of mine
I try to breathe between his demanding kisses, try to speak. “You. Were. Busy.”
He pulls back and presses his lips to my forehead, breathing roughly. His palm pulses around my throat, squeezing lightly and releasing at the same rate as his heavy breaths hit my face. His fear of my absence startles me. His energy is desperate and dangerous, causing his words to swirl back into my mind.“Maybe I needed you much more than you ever needed me.”
My hands find their way up his back, rolling over his tense muscles, provoking them to ripple in response to my touch. “I’m not going to just disappear without saying anything, nutcase.” I breathe the truth out and his whole body relaxes around me.
He lets out a heavy exhale. “Okay, baby.”
Reaching between us, I circle his wrist and pull his hand from my throat. My lips find his knuckles, kissing the ink-laced skin while his mouth brushes my forehead.
“Come with me,” I whisper, pulling him towards his room. My mind races with thoughts of his volatility. One moment he’s peacefully lying on the grass, the next he’s pinning me to a wall, shaking with discomfort over the idea I may have bolted. It won’t work between us if he doesn’t trust me.
And I him.
We enter his room, and the light from the sun sits high in the sky, casting a shadow over his sheets. He positions himself on the edge of the bed, eyeing me with a smirk that twitches with mischief. I arch a brow at him, reading his mind, which seems to be in a perpetual state of perversion. “You mentioned that your tastes have changed,” I say. Walking slowly over to the drawer, the one that I know has this item in it, I inhale strength, finding it easy when he’s quiet and not manhandling me. I retrieve the collar, and he sucks a rough breath in. “Andthis, you seemed quite taken by it,” I say, pivoting to face him straight on.
He studies me like I’m something to eat. Leaning forward, he rests his elbows on his knees. “Go on, baby. What do you want to know?”
“The whole scene at Jimmy’s. . . “ Images of girls in negligees and dressed scantily appear in my mind as I say, “Is that what you like? Do you have submissives instead of girlfriends?”
He chuckles, a deep rumbling sound that spreads through me in a wonderful way. “No, baby. I have no interest in any permanent female presence in my bedroom. . . if she’s not you.”
I exhale relief, my shoulders dropping and loosening. I would never wish loneliness on anyone, but Bronson Butcher is mine, and the jealous being inside me screams this fact. “But you like it when girls wear this? You seemed to-“
“I like what it represented whenyouwore it,” he cuts in. “That you belong to me. I liked that every man there was too afraid to spare you a glance in case I saw. I liked that a lot.”
I look down at the collar and feel my lips curve with a small smile. Not because I want to wear it but because I understand that level of possessiveness. If I could have paraded him around in a collar in front of the girls at school, I would have. Waves of warmth course through my stomach. “I wouldn’t just take off, okay? I know that might be hard for you to believe. And to be honest, I don’t trust you because you keep proving to me that you’ll assert your dominance at any given moment,” I say, just as his phone comes to life with a call; I hear the buzzing coming from in his jeans.
Digging it out, he gives it a quick once over before stuffing it back into his pocket. “I have to go, baby.”
Cassidy’s knowledge of their plans for this afternoon settles in my stomach like envy. Because if I’m staying, this is my business too. I need to know where he is. If he is safe. I don’t want to be in the dark. Running my fingers through my hair, I say, “You have business with your brothers?”
He gazes at me. “Yes.”
He moves forward, but I step back, needing space to ask the next question. “Are you going to kill Jimmy Storm?”
Stopping just before me, he grins, excitement and something sour, like resentment, flittering across his turquoise-coloured eyes. It should scare me. But it doesn’t. I understand why he feels that way. “Yes.”
“When?” I ask, anxiously.
“Soon.”
“Soon?” I square my shoulders. “That’s it? Since when are you the one-word man?”
He chuckles. “Since I don’t want to worry you with family issues. We’ll sort it all out soon. . .Then we can bring Akila home. . . Do you want that?”
If he still wants me once I tell him that I may not be able to give him more children of our own. Then yes. My heart screams yes. My mind whispers it. “Yes,” I admit, sentiment playing with each letter. “I want that.”
“What about being afraid of the pain?” he says, and then smirks. “Asking for a friend.”
I release a soft sigh that holds all my fears and uncertainties. Trying not to cringe, I say, “Because even though I might fucking melt. . . I still want to know the warmth of the flame.” I repeat his words, shaking my head at how silly I feel referencing a cartoon snowman.
“Fuck yeah!” He fist pumps the air, and I can’t stop the giggle that erupts from me. “I won’t be too long, baby.” He takes the two steps needed to stand so close that I can feel the heat from his skin. Even enclosed in his silly bowtie shirt, his body is a wall of muscles that I want to explore more of, to circle every tattoo, to trace every line. “The girls are waiting for you in the living room.”
Bouncing my eyes from his chest, I crane my neck to meet his gaze. “Yeah,” I say contemptuously. “Cassidy is babysitting me.”
As his hand rises to caress my face the way he loves to do, he says, “Lady-sitting.Don’t worry, she’ll let you stay up late. And she’ll probably give you two desserts.”