shake my head, and he stands, bringing me with him. I feel a definite shift the second he steps over the threshold of my bedroom. Nothing will ever be the same again.
But the cause of this momentous change doesn’t even seem to realize the enormity of what he’s done. His size alone makes him look huge in the narrow space, and he easily dominates my bed as he sits on the edge of it.
His eyes find mine, daring me to join him. When I do, he returns us to our previous positions. He lies on his back with me on his chest. My thin mattress creaks to protest the unusual amount of weight, and my blankets are no match for us both. I lie in his arms, half-expecting Branden to barge in. This peace feels too surreal. Too fragile. Too good.
“If you want me to leave, I’ll go,” he suggests, picking up on my unease.
“No,” I say. “It’s just… I’m wondering how many women you must have had in your bed to not want it to smell like them.”
I inhale, imagining how he’ll taint my sheets. The strange part? I can’t see myself hating the effect, even after he leaves. If only his heat could remain the same way.
“There you go again.” He grunts out another harsh laugh. “Playing with fire.”
“I’m not jealous.” Though it’s not like I’ve been in any relationship long enough to feel the right to claim anyone. “I’m just curious.”
“Enough to know that shit gets fucked up real fucking fast the second you let a bitch sleep next to you.”
I lift my head, fixing him with a raised eyebrow. “Oh, really?”
He frowns. “Unless she already has a fucking boyfriend,” he clarifies. “Then there’s no risk.”
“You don’t want a girlfriend?”
He shakes his head. “Don’t want my bed smelling like pussy, remember?” Ironically, the motion causes his hair to spill out around him, staining my pillow like ink. “I don’t want to be owned, either—” He grabs my wrist beside the healing bruise. “Not by anyone. I don’t want someone thinking they can control what I do or blow up my phone every five fucking minutes.”
I draw my arm away and turn my gaze to the window. “Point taken.”
“I didn’t mean it like that…” He sighs, and I feel his palm slide over my hip. He lets it linger, his finger tapping as he mulls over whatever he wants to say next. Finally, he murmurs, “Explain it for me, bunny. Use those pretty words.”
Explain it?
“I owe him.” It’s the only explanation I can give. The one reinforced since childhood by everyone from my parents down. “He protects me…so I owe him.”
“You owe him.” He sounds so calm. I don’t realize the true extent of his emotions until I make the mistake of looking up. His eyes flash, and his hand flexes against me, radiating anger. “To hurt you? To call your writing bullshit? To control you—”
“He gave up a lot for me,” I confess against his chest. “It was hard on him.”
So hard that he’d lash out when the pressure overwhelmed him. When the weight of the world on his shoulders threatened to crush him. When I provoked him, and he felt compelled to remind me of just how much he’d sacrificed for me.
You’re a selfish bitch, Hannah. If only you just listened. Everything I’ve done is on you. It’s your fault…
“I owe him.”
“That sounds like bullshit, bunny,” Rafe says, and I remember that he’s even here, judging every word I’ve spoken. Listening. “Does he tell you that? That you owe him just for fucking being there?”
“Please stop.” I hate how pathetic I sound. Desperate. When he says it out loud, it doesn’t seem as rational as it does in my head. And it has to stay rational.
Branden loves me.
He protects me.
I owe him.
And he owns me.
“Would you break up with him?” he asks next, his voice still level. “Not for me or anyone else. Just to do it.”
It’s my turn to sigh. “It’s complicated.”
“Of course, it fucking is.” He lets his hand fall from me, fisting a handful of my sheets in lieu of my skin. “Let me guess. You know him better than anyone. He’s not always a total dick. When he’s not beating the shit out of you, he’s a pretty nice guy. You know, for a writer, you use a lot of fucking clichés.”
I eye him through my lashes, unsure of how much to read into his vitriol. Those words don’t sound entirely of