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“I’m not playing any games,” she says, her voice low, defensive. “At least, not right now.”
I scoff, shaking my head. “You always are. It’s all you do. You play me, push me, see how far I’ll go before I lose control.”
Her eyes narrow, the fire returning to them. “You don’t know me as well as you think you do, Rhett.”
“Don’t I?” I shoot back, my voice harsher than I mean it to be. “You’re lying to me right now. I can feel it. Lying to yourself, too. We both know how you fucking feel. We both know how much your body craves my rough touch. How much it likes it. That’s the side of you I want. The fucking truth I want you to give me.”
She takes a step forward, her gaze locked on mine, but there’s something different in her expression now—something desperate. “And what if I am? What if I don’t know how to give you everything you want from me?”
Her words hit harder than I expect, cutting through the walls I’ve built to protect myself. I swallow hard, my fists clenching at my sides. There’s a vulnerability in her now, something real, but I can’t trust it. I can’t trusther.
I shake my head. “I don’t need everything, Cara. I just need you to be honest with me. Stop these fucking games.”
Her eyes glisten, and for a moment, I think I see something real—something raw. But then she blinks, and it’s gone, replaced by that same hard, defiant mask she always wears.
“You don’t know what you’re asking. This girl you think I am? This vision of the precious little nightmare you’ve created in your fucked up head, that’s not me,” she says, her voice shaking slightly.
I step closer again, my hands reaching for her wrists, holding her in place, but I don’t pull her in. “Then show me,” I say, my voice softening, my thumb tracing slow circles on her skin. “Show me who you really are.”
She bites her lip, her eyes searching mine, and for a second, I think she might finally give in. But then, she jerks her hands away, stepping back. The distance between us feels like a chasm.
“I can’t,” she whispers, her voice barely audible.
My chest tightens as I watch her, that familiar frustration building, twisting in my gut. She won’t say it, but I know it. I’ve seen it in her eyes since the night we met.
“Why?” My voice is sharper than I intend, but I can’t help it. I step closer, but she backs away. “What are you so afraid of?”
Her lips press into a thin line, eyes guarded, refusing to let me in. She does this—puts up walls, tests my patience, pushes me just far enough to keep me on edge. She’s never easy, never lets her guard down for long. It’s why I’ve been chasing her, why I’ll never stop.
Finally, after what feels like forever, she speaks, her voice barely a whisper. “You.”
The word hits me like a knife to the gut. I pause, the breath catching in my throat. I knew she was scared, but hearing her say it? Admitting it?
Of course, she’s afraid. I’ve killed for her before. And I’d do it again in a fucking heartbeat. I’d kill anyone who so much as looked at her the wrong way. She’s mine.Mygirl, and no one is taking her from me.
But I wouldn’t hurt her. Not like that. Not like the others.
“You shouldn’t be afraid of me,” I say, my voice rougher than I mean it to be. “I’d never hurt you, Cara. You know that.”
She doesn’t answer right away, just stares at me, her arms wrapped tightly around herself as if that could protect her from me. Her walls are high, but I know her better than she thinks. I know the way her mind works, the way she flinches, like she’s always expecting me to snap.
“I don’t trust myself around you,” she finally says, her voice shaky, barely holding it together. “You make me feel things I don’t want to feel. You make me weak.”
Weak. I hate that word. It grates at me, sharp and raw, because I know that’s not what she is. I’ve seen her strength, seen how she pushes back even when she’s terrified. My little nightmare is a fighter. There’s nothing weak about her.
I take a step toward her, but she holds up a hand, stopping me in my tracks. That small act of defiance should fucking piss me off, but it doesn’t. It just makes me want her more.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” I repeat, quieter this time, but the words feel hollow, even to me. I know I’m capable of hurting people—I’ve done it more times than I can count. But not her. Never her. “Not like that.”
Her eyes meet mine, and for the first time, I see it—the fear isn’t just of me. My little nightmare is afraid of herself, of what I bring out in her, and of the dark part she tries so hard to bury.
“You already have,” she whispers, her voice cracking.
A flicker of doubt crosses my mind. Maybe I’ve pushed her too far. Fuck, maybe this is the moment she slips through my fingers. No. I won’t let that happen.
She’s mine. All fucking mine.
I step closer, closing the space between us, my hands finding her waist, pulling her flush against me. Her body tenses, but she doesn’t pull away. That’s the thing about Cara—no matter howmuch she pretends to fight me, there’s always that part of her that craves this, cravesme.
