He cuts those lethal eyes toward me, and I give a tentative smile. “Just curious, but when exactly did your damage escalate to this level?”
His eyes narrow. “This wouldn’t be an issue if Eve minded her own fucking business. She knows she’s untouchable. Even if I was a heartless bastard, I couldn’t kill someone as fucking pathetic as she is,” he grinds out as he starts shoving a dresser in front of the door…
“If you’re barricading us in here, I think it’s time we had a rational, meaningful conversation about what steps you plan to take next. Maybe…find a saner approach to handle this? Conflict resolution is a huge tool necessary to have in any and all relationships.”
“Stop talking to me like I’m some lunatic who just escaped the asylum, Kara,” he bites out as he starts putting one of the small tables atop the dresser.
“Sure. Sure. No problem. Just stop acting like a lunatic, and I’ll stop treating you like one,” I assure him.
He glares over his shoulder at me for a brief moment, but then quickly resumes piling shit back on top of the dresser until the room is mostly emptied and completely blocking the door.
“How do you plan on feeding us?” I very reasonably ask.
“I have a fridge in the closet that will get us through for the next five days,” he says like he’s thought this through. “We’ll go sparingly until they cool off and show a bit more understanding for my point of view.”
“Am I going to be tied up like this the entire time?” I ask, mostly because I’m losing feeling in my legs already.
He walks over to me, and he quickly undoes the top two ropes that release my legs. The relief I feel is immediately squashed by the sinking sensation that he’s scratching his head a lot.
It’s a nervous habit. Rush being nervous is never a good thing. He doesn’t deal with nervousness very well.
I’m sincerely worried just how fucked up this place has made him, when he was already fucked up enough when he got here.
“If you’ll untie my hands, I promise I won’t do anything stupid.”
He gives me a disbelieving look.
“You choose what we do with my freed body parts for the next thirty minutes. Completely your choice,” I offer, deciding that calming him down is definitely my top priority.
He narrows his gaze on me before slowly undoing the bindings on my wrists. The second I’m freed, I twist my wrists, working out the kinks, as I study him.
“Let me fucking sleep for a few hours with you the way we used to sleep, and I’ll leave you untied the rest of the night,” he says.
I’m surprised and confused, since I expected the thirty minutes I offered to be used for sexual favors.
“O-okay,” I stammer as he tugs his shirt over his head.
My mind goes back to how long he watched me. I thought it was just because Drex sent him. Now I almost wonder if he’s slept very much at all during that stint of time, because he certainly knows an awful lot about everything I’m doing before I do it.
Eve’s words drift through my head.
I thought he was obsessed with you.
“Rush, what’s going on?” I ask more seriously.
“The arrangement was sleep. Not chitchat,” he murmurs as he quickly grabs my hand and jerks me down on him.
I don’t fight him as my head gets tucked under his chin, and I wrap my arms around him as he presses me fully against his body.
He’s down to just his boxers, which is unusual for him. Usually, he at least keeps his jeans on so he can be up and out of here at a moment’s notice.
His arms come around me, holding me as close as possible, as his breaths slowly begin to even out. It’s probably a bad decision, but I kiss his chest, because I hate that he’s acting so lost right now.
His next breath comes out harshly, but his body relaxes all the more.
“I would have come with you if you’d told me you were leaving,” he says so quietly I almost miss it.
My eyes shut, and I release my own shaky breath while kissing his chest again.
“I wouldn’t have left without you if I’d known that then,” I assure him.
“You’re just telling me whatever in the hell I want to hear right now because you think I’m fucking insane. I’m not a fool anymore, Kara. Stop treating me like I still am.”
My leg inches farther over on his waist, and I settle in closer to him. “I think you’re batshit crazy, but I don’t think you’re a fool. I promise.”
He snorts, and the warm breath tickles my scalp through my hair.
“Everyone is batshit crazy. It’s how they handle it that defines their level of crazy,” he says, quoting the young version of me.