“No, I texted you because I wanted your ass here so I could ream it for givin’ me that fuckin’ amazing painting but writin’ that just fuckin’ fucked-up note, makin’ it clear you weren’t gonna search for your own happiness which meant I had to do somethin’ about that shit. Which, even if it pissed me off, was good since I was lookin’ for an excuse to do that and you gave me one. And then after I reamed your ass, I intended to tag it. That’s all done. And you don’t gotta bother answering. I know like you know I know that you came here thinkin’ I needed you. Which says it fuckin’ all.”
“Sebring—”
He got so close the tip of his nose brushed mine.
“Livvie, we’re gonna figure this out.”
Nick on top of me, his cock still inside me, I started trembling but for a different reason this time.
He felt it. I knew it when I saw the rage flash through his eyes before he buried it and forced his arms under me so he was holding me.
“You toe his line,” he whispered.
“Sebring—”
“He burned you. You toe his line. You don’t ever step over it. You did and you earned his lesson. So now you don’t ever step over that fuckin’ line. Am I right?”
Caught in his eyes, I let the blue close me in and it was just him again for me.
“He owns me.”
The flash of wrath shot through his gaze again before he slid out of me and rolled us to our sides, keeping me close in his arms.
“I own you,” he decreed.
“Sebring—”
“Livvie, not ten minutes ago, you gave yourself to me. He can’t own you when you belong to me.”
“You don’t understand.”
“I didn’t feel the burn but I see the scars so I do understand, baby. But that’s done. It was done the minute you walked to my chair in the club. I owned you then. And you own me.”
I closed my eyes and dipped my chin into my throat.
God, I wanted to own him. I wanted him to be mine.
And I wanted him to own me.
I felt Nick’s lips at the top of my hair.
“We’re gonna do this right. Take it slow. Build the trust. Figure it out. And do it smart. You with me, Livvie?”
I tipped my head so my lips were at his throat but I didn’t open my eyes when I whispered fervently, “He can’t know. It isn’t about me. But he can’t know. I can’t go through it again. Not it happening to me. Watching.”
Nick slid his arm up my spine and curled it around the back of my neck.
“Leary,” he said quietly.
I pressed my lips deeper into his throat, murmuring, “He can’t know.”
“He won’t know, honey.”
“He can’t know,” I repeated.
“He won’t touch me.”
“He can’t know.”