He kept talking, “And I’m bettin’ that the real you’ll be able to deal, we’ll ride this out and get to the other side.”
Oh no.
No we wouldn’t.
No… we… would… not.
Unfortunately, he wasn’t finished.
“You try to shut down, you try to hold back, you try to push me away, to take off, fair warning, mamita, I won’t like it and I won’t allow it. You feel that’s me puttin’ you under my thumb, I can live with that. You’ll learn the difference between how your father treated you and how I’m gonna treat you. Do you understand what I’m sayin’ to you?”
What did I say to that?
“Sadie, answer me. I gotta know you understand.”
“Yes,” I replied.
I understood and it scared me more than anything had scared me before.
“You got anything to say?” he asked.
I thought about it then I made an effort at protection.
In other words, I lied (badly).
“I’m not sure there’s something here. I don’t think I feel about you the way –”
He interrupted me, “You feel what you’re wearin’?”
I didn’t understand the question then I thought back to the night before and all I could remember was falling asleep on the couch.
My hand went to my waist and I felt soft flannel bunched there.
Damn and blast him to perdition!
I’d stolen Hector’s flannel shirt the day before, shoved it in my overnight bag, all ready to take it with me to Crete as a reminder never to get myself in another fool situation ever again.
Now, somehow, I was wearing it.
Which meant I was in another fool situation right now!
“How…?” I started but stopped when his head moved, his mouth came to my neck, lips sliding up to the back of my ear.
“Carried you to bed last night, went for your pajamas in your bag, found my shirt. You don’t feel about me the way I feel about you, why’d you steal my shirt?”
Blooming heck.
With no other choice, I decided to go for attitude. “You shouldn’t have rooted through my stuff.”
“You shouldn’t have stolen my shirt,” he returned.
This was true.
“You can have it back,” I snapped.
I felt his body move and I lost his heat but only so he could put his hand to my belly and press me to my back. He came up, elbow in the pillow, head in his hand and looked down at me, grinning.
I glared up at him.