Highest Bidder Collection - Lauren Landish Page 0,238

my cheek, making my skin prickle all up and down my arms. I can still hardly breathe. I’m waiting for the other foot to drop, waiting for a punishment of admonishment. I knew what I was doing was bad. … I also know I’m not really sorry. I’m only sorry I got caught. And I bet he knows that too.

“There’s nothing to be sorry about flower,” he tells me softly as if reading my mind. He pauses and then gives me a playful nudge with his nose. “Unless you want to be sorry that you weren’t waiting on my bed for me, naked with your legs spread wide.”

A smile spreads across my face and I let out a girlish giggle at his playful words. I really love these moments. His playful side shines through. It’s so different from the dark, dominating master side. And I want more of it. I cup his face in my hand, looking deep into his eyes and rubbing my thumb across his stubble.

“I like you like this,” I say softly, still not quite sure if he’s really not mad at me. Maybe he knew I’d be looking. He always seems to know what I’m up to.

“Like what?” Joseph asks.

“I don’t know, just when you’re kind and playful.”

He scoffs, shaking his head he responds, “those words aren’t used to describe me very often.”

“I really like this side of you,” I say placing my hand on his. A moment of silence falls over us, and I feel compelled to ask, “Passerotto?” I’m not sure if I pronounced it correctly. Or if me prodding is going to tip him to the point of being pissed off. But I want to talk. It’s in my nature.

Joseph hesitates for a moment, and I fear he might close himself off. But instead he grabs onto my waist and pulls me onto his lap. I gasp and hold onto him, not expecting it. He seems to pull me into his lap whenever we “talk.” I like it. Yet another thing to add to my Things-I-like-about-Joseph-Levi-list. I nestle into his lap and wait patiently.

“Yes. It means little Sparrow.”

“Who did that journal belong to?” I ask, although I’m certain it’s his.

“My mother gave it to me when I was little….” Joseph’s eyes are distant as his voice trails off. I place my cheek on his hot chest, listening to his heart and playing with the smatter of chest hair peeking through his unbuttoned shirt. I can sense that this is something he doesn’t want to talk about, but I don’t want to lose the opportunity to get him to open up.

“Go on… Please,” I say very softly, stroking his hand and pulling away from him enough to look him in the eyes.

Joseph swallows audibly. But I’m pleased when he continues speaking. “I don’t like talking about my past, but you seem to make me talk, my flower. I’ve had a fucked up life. There were a lot of times where I thought I wouldn’t make it after the shit I had been through, after the shit I seen.” He runs a hand down his face and looks past me.

The pain in his words pull at my heartstrings.

“What did you see?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper. I just want him to open up to me.

There’s a long pause, and I can actually feel Joseph’s heart pounding against my hand still at his chest. “A lot of death. A lot of murder.”

I bring a hand to my lips in horror. “I’m sorry,” I say in a choked voice, feeling tears well up in my eyes.

“It’s okay,” he replies thickly. But I know it’s not. He’s fucking hurting and it tears me up. “I’d just rather not talk about it.” My eyes flicker down to my lap then back to his. I want him to talk. I want him to open up to me.

I know how he feels, not wanting to talk about things. But it helped me, so much that I know for sure I wouldn’t be the person I am without having someone to confide in. Even if it was just a counselor at school. It’s good to talk it out.

“Please?” I plead with him.

He shakes his head and the look in his eyes tells me not to push him. I nod, trying not to feel like he’s pushing me away. My eyes focus on the closet, where the journal is. Maybe that’s his way.

I glance over at the closet. “Can I