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“I didn’t…mean to offend you. I was trying to respect your space and make sure we could talk about what happened before I started…” My thoughts fizzle.
“I said I wasn’t offended, Rowan.”
“You sound a little bit offended.”
Her brows shoot up. “Really? How peculiar.”
“Briar…”
Her arms fold. “Finish what you were saying before. Before you started what?”
My muscles tighten. “Before I started thinking of you as mine. It’s important to me that we understand each other. It’s important to me that you’re okay with…what happened. What I’ve done to you.” I swipe my hand through my hair and clutch the dark strands. “Before I let it go any further, I need to know that what happened in the heat of the moment is still okay. I don’t think I’m capable of being much better than my parents at my core, but the least I can do is be open with you about my motivations, expectations, and desires.”
Her smile falls. “You really have a fetish for over-explaining yourself, don’t you, pet?”
“Maybe with my men, given my position, I over-explain myself, but you’re different. Our relationship is different. You’re not my subordinate.”
“Right.” She approaches, stopping an inch in front of me to peer up into my eyes. “I’m not your subordinate. I’m your fake fiancee. So…so I really shouldn’t be offended.” Her expression softens—if slightly. Her eyes plead for me to understand. “I meant everything I said and every moment, but this isn’t the start of something, okay? You regret what happened, and I never should have let things go that far. I did get caught up in the moment, and I’m sorry.” Stepping back, she looks away and toys with the hem of her shirt. “I should be hearing from my contacts about the Maxim Project sometime today. That’s the only reason we’re doing this.”
Those words spear me through, leaving me without air. Throat tight, I say, “I don’t regret what happened, only if I went too far and hurt you.”
Her eyes flick my way. “Hurt me?”
“The bruises.”
A slight laugh leaves her as a sardonic grin touches her lips. “Please. I get more bruises sparring with Lace. Don’t worry about it. It was…fun. I guess.” Her smile drifts away again, and she combs her fingers through her damp hair, refusing to meet my eyes. “I’ll stop teasing and flirting with you. That’s my bad. I suffer from a condition known as poor impulse control.”
I don’t believe that for a moment. Every action she commits always seems so entirely thought out. Instead of challenging that point, however, I murmur, “The marks don’t bother you, princess?”
“Of course not.”
“Of course not?”
Heat grazes her cheeks; she still won’t meet my eyes. “They’re…you.”
My heart thumps against my ribs, and my entire chest clenches.
“You’re not being malicious. You’re just reaching for something to hold onto. I get it. This world is so—” She swears. “—unstable. At any moment, the whole bleeding rock could be ripped out from under us. You don’t even need to run in our crowds to constantly be on the edge of danger. Yet, still, everyone stumbles by like shadows aren’t lurking around every corner. Existing is—” She curses again. “—terrifying. There’s nothing scary about holding on tight to whatever you’ve found that makes existing…I don’t know.” Her eyes close. “Bearable.”
I think…I might adore her. The real pieces of her. The playful ones. The taunting, tormenting ones.
The desperate ones.
“Briar.”
Her jaw clenches, but she forces her eyes to open on me.
“I want you.” I lift my hand. “Date me with the intention to marry.”
She jolts, eyes wide. “Excuse me— What?”
“I think I was clear.”
“Are you crazy?” A spark of realization flings across her expression, and she averts her gaze. “Is this karma?”
Without hesitation, I take her hand in mine. “I can wait for an answer. I won’t even tie you up in my bedroom to get it.”
Red flares in her cheeks.
