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Then why isn’t she answering me?
“Is something wrong?”
I mean her psyche. Her arched eyebrow tells me that her psyche too, is okay.
It’s something else.
She’s giving me the silent treatment.
“Are we playing this game now?” I don’t snap at her. My hackles don’t rise at her reaction to me. I deserve it. But another second without her voice and I’ll fucking lose it. “You’re punishing me?”
Both her eyebrows arch. If she wasn’t giving me the silent treatment, I bet she’d ask if I was for real. I need to hear her ask that. To taunt me. To scream at me. Anything.
“Talk to me, dammit.” When she doesn’t, I do the unimaginable. I explain myself to her. “You’re fragile, Leigh. I couldn’t risk you screaming for help because you’re confused. Do you understand me?”
“I wouldn’t have,” she grumbles.
I’ll take her grumbles over silence any day. “Leighton.”
“Or I would’ve.” Her glower is so fucking cute. “Doesn’t matter. You said you wouldn’t say the word as a means to control me and you have. What the hell, Marcus?”
“I deserve your anger. I’m sorry.” I check on her. My hand is on her, softly massaging the spot between her eyes, grounding her. “Can you forgive me?”
A small, sneaky smirk creeps up her lips. “Apologize again, and I might.”
“I’m sorry. So sorry, pretty girl.” When I kiss the corner of her lip, she doesn’t grimace. She lets me. “Could you ever forgive me?”
Her wickedness turns into softness as her smirk evolves into a smile.
“What’s going on?” I watch her like you would a wild, magical animal. “How are you?”
“High.” She sighs, her voice groggy. Her pleasure is evident as she scoots toward me. “Happy. Calm. Was that Rylan?”
“No, it wasn’t her.” I raise the covers to join her.
She doesn’t object to me gathering her into my embrace. We gaze into each other’s eyes. My hands delve into her hair, hers are on my chest.
A profound sense of serenity settles between us. Absolute certainty that everything will be okay.
“’Kay.” She almost looks happy.
“Where did you go in your trance, little doll?” I ask, seeking answers from her mouth as well as her eyes.
She hums. “Somewhere.”
“Tell me.”
Before she does, I place a finger beneath her chin, angling her head up. Her lips taste of summer and love. I take her slowly, reverently. Then fiercely. Her tongue responds to my demanding strokes, giving as good as she gets.
We break the kiss, both of us breathing hard. Her exhales are my drug. Mine make her smile.
“I love you.”
I don’t let my shock show. But you can bet your ass I’m stumped at her statement.
“Where did that come from?”
“I told you, somewhere.”
