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“I don’t deserve to be caged.” With her hands balled on her hips, she looks nothing like a prisoner. She looks like a lioness. A naked one.
Sure, I’ve fantasized about turning her into my doll. But I’ve fallen for her character way before I ever dreamed of hypnotizing her or dollifying her.
It’s in her laughter. The way she scolds Milo and hisses at him to leave her alone when Rylan’s out of earshot. How she orders Rylan and me to go to the living room after dinner so she can clear the table.
That’s why I forgive her for talking back. Why I give her this tiny bit of rope.
“I deserve a man who respects me.” She edges closer to me. I’m not sure whether I should choke her or fuck her. Or both. “Who hears rejection and asks, Can we discuss this? Not this.” Leighton points an accusatory finger at me. “Not turning all psycho on me. Not telling me my rejection made you go all crazy and kidnap me.”
My blood boils. The pounding in my ears is deafening.
Rejection and the fear for her motherfucking life were what brought us here. That and my love for her.
This girl pushes my buttons like no other. She’s crawled into my heart, made her fucking home in there. Her name is a whisper that runs through my veins.
Her accusations hurt.
Leighton gasps when my hands grip her shoulders. The color drains from her face when I spin her and pin her to the wall.
“I didn’t take you on a whim, little doll.” My lips brush over her cheek.
Her teeth clench. “Sure looks like it.”
Building this home for us wasn’t done on a whim.
Filling a closet with clothes and shoes for her wasn’t. Done. On. A. Whim. They fit her taste, her size. There are clothes there for every season of the year.
The money and devotion I’ve poured into making this house a home were deliberate. A well-crafted plot I executed behind everyone’s back.
For her.
A whim? Fuck no.
“This has been years in the making. You’ve been driving me out of my mind for years, Leighton.” I slide my hand up to her throat, my thumb running across her plump bottom lip. “I’ve loved you for five years, Leighton.”
Her eyes dart between mine, her mind calculating.
“That’s right, since you were seventeen.” I grind my hard length into her belly, then whirl both of us and take her into the shower. “You were funny and sweet. Giving me those eyes and blushing whenever you were around me. You were about to let me teach you to swim, pretty girl. The forbidden fucking fruit. It started out this way, at least. The girl I can’t get out of my goddamn head.”
The pulse in her neck does me in. I slam her against the tile wall and put my mouth to her pulse point. My lips part, tasting the fear and desire on her. Her breath flutters on the nape of my neck, yet she doesn’t lift her hands to touch me.
She will.
She. Will.
“My feelings for you have evolved over the years.” Lowering my hand to the space between her ass and the wall, I grab her flesh, squeezing until she yelps. “Wanting you this young, that was fucking wrong. The only thing wrong about us, I’ll admit to that. That didn’t matter to me, though. I couldn’t help what I felt. Couldn’t do anything other than keep my distance.”
“Until the day in the bathroom four years ago.”
“Yes.” My head snaps up to meet her eyes. “Until that day. You were eighteen. Touching you wasn’t wrong.”
“Why didn’t you say something?” Her voice cracks. “After?”
I glare at her. “You were off to college. What kind of man would I be if I ruined that experience for you?”
What kind of man would I be if I let you stay alone with Rylan in Texas? When she knows we’re together? Where I couldn’t save you from her?
“I see waiting worked out so well for you.” Leighton seethes.
