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I clear my throat, backing away before I combust. Before that skillful mouth and those demon eyes pull me in and drown me. “Good thing I like pancakes.”
He looks over his shoulder at me. “Yeah?” There is a hint of vulnerability there.
I nod. “Yeah. But I still don't like you.” Solid comeback, Rayne.
His lips kick up. “No?” I shake my head, not trusting myself to speak. He grabs his shirt behind his neck, slowly revealing his sculpted stomach, and those beautiful pecs. His beautiful golden skin shines under the lights, highlighting every hard edge.
I shake my head, forcing my eyes back to his face. “Are you trying to seduce me?”
He fakes innocence as he begins stirring the wet ingredients together. “No, why? Is it working?”
I narrow my eyes, slowly stepping backward. “I’m going to shower, and I suggest you put a shirt on. Cooking burns are no joke.”
Turning to walk away, I hear him mumble, “I’d risk it all for you.”
And that makes my chest swell because I know he would. He has proven he would risk it all for me. He is dangerous for my heart. A weapon designed to use against me. To cause mass destruction. But I am not ready to forgive him. I’m not sure I ever will be.
* * *
Sandpaper. They taste like sandpaper. Branson grimaces as he takes a bite, and I hide my smile behind my glass. “Fuck, that’s gross.”
“It’s not that bad.” I do not know why I’m being nice. Why don't I tell him it tastes like sandpaper? Why am I not kicking him out? I scoot my chair back, standing, stretching my arms above my head. “It’s okay, I’m not hungry anyways. I’m going to bed.”
He rises, following me down the hall. “Rayne, we need to talk.”
“No. I don’t believe we do.” I step into my room, about to slam the door in his face, when he braces his arms against it.
“You need to let me explain. Get the hard topics over with so we can move past this.”
“Or you could leave. Forget about me.” I shrug, trying to slam the door again, but he is stronger than me.
“Not fucking possible,” he growls, stalking forward, and picking me up. He carries me to the bed, tossing me down and pinning my arms by my head.
“Where do I even fucking start? Your mom? A weakness of mine. I have mommy issues. Severe and raw. Growing up, your mom wasn’t the person she is now; she was kind and caring. Always helping me with whatever I needed, showing up to my games to support me, and one thing led to another and… Look, she never felt like your mom to me. She never raised you, and you do not even look like her. It never connected in my mind that you came from her. Of course, I knew, but she…” He growls, frustrated, eyes clouding. “She was a way for me to bury my sorrows, a way to get over my mom's death. A way for me to get the love I always wanted. No matter how sick it is.”
My stupid heart feels sympathy for him. I get it. I knew this was something people did… and am I really mad he fucked her because she was my mom?Or was I just mad about everything else? Because she doesn’t feel like my mom. She feels like nothing but one of the villains.
“And the gun? I had to do what I had to do. You have lost your pretty mind if you think I’d have pulled the trigger. You know deep down I would not hurt you like that. I would have turned that gun on everyone in that room if I had to. I’ve pulled that gun on everyone initiated in. Every single one of them. It’s a scare tactic. Fuck, say something.” He breaks, his head resting on mine.
“What do you want me to say?” I whisper. Crumbling. I am breaking. Deteriorating. My heart is crashing. It feels like knives are plunged into it. Pressure builds behind my eyes.
Branson looks pained, as if I am the one who turned his life upside down. And maybe I have, but it does not change anything.
“I want you to say you’ll try. Try to understand where I’m coming from. That you understand me the way I understand you. That what I feel, this all-consuming, burn-the-world-to-the-ground-to-be-with-you feeling, you feel it too, right?”
I nod. “The only difference is, I never did anything to hurt you, to betray your trust. And I’m not sure I can forgive that. Forced marriage or not.”
“It’s driving me crazy not to be with you,” he murmurs into my neck. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying not to break down right here, right now.
“You need to give me time to think, time to breathe.”
“Breathe with me next to you. Let’s work through this together.” He places another kiss to my neck.
“Okay,” I whisper.
He rolls off me and both of us stare at the ceiling. Eventually, he gets up, walking out the door as I pretend to sleep. I hear the TV turn on and when I walk out to get water later that night, I find him asleep on the couch.
Chapter 26
