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My heart skips a beat. “You’re just joking, right?”
He lifts one large shoulder. “Absolutely not.”
Swallowing hard, feeling the sensation against his palm, I open my mouth, but no sound comes out. This is dangerous. He’s not supposed to one-eighty on me. I was hoping for a nice, gentle sixty. Forty, even. Heck, I’d have taken a thirty degree turn away from his unrelenting frown.
Desperate people fall under the spell of my tactics so much harder than I could have ever anticipated.
His eyes open—deep, dark abysses. “Is that a problem?”
“It’s…” My breath catches as I purse my lips. “…kind of a problem.”
His fingers open, and he sits up, so I follow suit.
“Why is it a problem? Have I not made my intentions clear?”
I toy with the ripples of my skirt. “Did you miss the part where I intentionally fabricate a reliance on me? Could you at least try to be different and not fall for it?”
“I want to keep you,” he says. “You’ve got me addicted, so you have to take responsibility.” Caging me, he kneels around my thighs, threads his fingers into my hair, and tugs. “It’s your own fault,” he murmurs. “You shouldn’t joke about some things if you aren’t prepared for the consequences.”
Heat flushes my skin. “The blame game is classic gaslighting.”
“I’m practicing.” Pushing me down, he kisses me until I’m gasping for air.
“Rowan—”
He muffles his name, catching it on his tongue. “Don’t get hysterical. You know you have a tendency to overreact.”
I shiver as he grips my jaw and peers into my eyes.
He tugs my bottom lip down with his thumb and murmurs a swear. “That’s it…you’re so much more tolerable when you’re quiet.”
My heart leaps. “That’s dirty,” I whisper.
“I find it deeply concerning just how voraciously you’re eating this up.” His hand settles at my waist, firm, heat bleeding through my clothes to sear me. “I thought I’d have more compunctions when it came to employing the behaviors I’ve policed my entire life, but you’re really enjoying this.”
I let my hands run up the slick fabric of his dress shirt and over his shoulders. “It’s like a game. I love games.”
“And the boys you’ve entertained playing with before weren’t able to match you, right?”
Breath sticks in my lungs. “Maybe they were missing a third of my age.”
“Maybe.” He dips for my mouth again, teases and nips.
“Are you sure you want to marry me?” I whisper. “It’s only been a few months. You’ve hardly had enough time to chart my menstrual cycle and the mood swings that come with it.”
“I will absolutely not be doing that.”
“If you don’t, how will you know when to bring me extra snacks?”
His brow tightens as his face twists into the most uncomfortable ponder I have ever witnessed a man experience. At the end of it, his eyes close, and he releases a sigh. “You can’t be making me seriously consider doing that.”
“I can. I am. Because that’s the kind of person I am. And you can’t seriously want to deal with…with me in a life-long capacity.”
Settling his elbow beside my head, he lets the weight of his body press into me as he props his chin in his hand. “It’s strange seeing you play the role of the stable one between us.”
I scoff and try to manage a deep breath; it’s impossible. “I told you. I’m deranged by choice. The annoyances are calculated, meant to confuse my victims. For clarification, every romantic interaction and word thus far has been a joke.”
He connects the dots of my most prominent freckles with a fingertip. “I like you, Briar.”
