AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Love. He’s describinglove. A twisted version of love, but still, that’s love.
He wants me to love him or at least as close as I can manage.
But how is that even possible?
And is he offering to give me the same thing in return?
“I told you I’d try,” I say, and my voice sounds like it’s a million miles away.
He pulls my hair softly, just enough to tilt my chin up toward him. I’m trying to keep myself under control but the way he’s touching me, the way he’s looking at me like he wants to devour my lips, I don’t know how long I can take it.
“Trying isn’t enough. I need you to give yourself over to me, Kat. I know that’s demanding. I’m selfish and uncompromising, and I won’t take it easy on you. But if you give me what I want, I swear, I’ll give you more in return.”
My mouth opens for a moment and I think of that kiss, our first kiss, the stolen kiss in the back of that cab, of his taste and his groan, and the whimper that escaped my lips, and the way I’ve been bending the memory of that moment over and over in my mind, replaying it and repeating it and obsessing over the details, and how I have him right here in our own bedroomstaring down into my eyes. I want another kiss. I want another taste. And most of all, I want to live up to what he’s asking.
I put my hands on his chest. His heart’s racing like mine and a spike of realization drops down into my core. This is aman, Ford’s a person, a human with feelings and wants and needs, hopelessly complex and inevitably flawed, but he’s right here and he’s solid and handsome and beautiful and maybe that’s enough for right now.
“You’re asking a lot from me,” I say softly, nearly panting now. “Do I get to make demands too?”
“Go ahead. I want you to want something.”
“No matter what happens, promise you won’t hurt me.” The words come out in a tumble and I don’t know where I find them, but it’s like they’ve been waiting deep down inside of my body for this moment. I feel a flash of Sara Lynn, a flash of my grandfather, a flash of my uncles and aunts and cousins, the whole family hurting me again and again, my mother and her addiction and the drugs that ruin her, and my missing father, and all the little ways I’ve failed and given up and let go and given in. I feel it all in that one request, and for a second, the room goes still.
His grip in my hair loosens. His mouth opens and works, but he says nothing. There’s a strange pained look in his eyes like he’s digesting something sharp and ugly, and he’s afraid it’s likely to tear through his stomach and rip the rest of him to little pieces. I don’t want him to hesitate. It kills me that he’s not speaking. I’m not asking for much—I’ve never asked for much in my life, I’ve never been a nuisance, never been a bother, always did my best to remain unobtrusive and quiet and out of the way—but now I have my own reasons, my own stipulations and provisions andrequirements. All I need is for him to promise not to hurt me. That’s all I need.
“I don’twantto hurt you,” he whispers and it’s like he’s stabbing himself in the heart and I don’t understand why. “I can’t promise that I won’t.”
I feel like I’m falling again. “Why not?” I blink back tears, and I feel stupid and foolish and childish. What a silly, naive thing to want, and now I wish he’d let me go and we could forget about all this.
But his grip in my hair tightens again, and his face takes on a serious stare as he meets my eyes like he’s determined to make me grasp something out of reach.
“What we’re doing is complicated and painful, but I promise that I won’t ever let anyoneelsehurt you. Not your family, not my family. You’re mine to hurt if that’s what happens.”
“But you can’t protect me from you?”
“I don’t think anyone can protect themselves from me.” He stoops down and his lips brush against my jaw. “I swear I’ll give myself to you, fully and without hesitation, if you do the same. I promise I’ll protect you. That’s the best I can do.”
I let his words sink in. It’s not what I asked for, but it’s close, it’s closer than anyone’s ever offered, and if I’m honest with myself, I think I always knew that Ford himself was the problem, not my family, not his family, butFord. He’s dangerous, and letting myself get tangled with him is like begging someone to come here and jam a spear down my throat, but I’m so beyond caring at this point.
“Then I guess I should start looking for couches,” I say.
And Ford laughs and lets me go, and I laugh back, and the tension between us only grows and nothing’s been resolved, but we’re doing this and doing it for real.
Chapter 13
Kat
Istand alone in the bathroom—my new bathroom with its pretty fixtures and big mirror—and stare at myself. I stare at my shirt, thin white cotton with “St. Jude Academy” in blocky yellow letters across the chest, a shirt I’ve had for most of my life, and my little gray shorts that show off a lot of my legs, and I never realized how little my pajamas cover up.
I’m tempted to put on another layer. Sweatpants, a heavy jacket, anything to put him a little bit further from my skin. It’s half past ten and Ford’s already sitting up reading on his phone, his bedside table lamp glowing, wearing only a pair of loose joggers and nothing on top, his muscular chest rising and falling with every breath he takes, and I doubt my willpower is strong enough to resist him.
The tension’s still there. It’s been floating between us since we spoke earlier today and chose to keep going even though things aren’t perfect. We talked about buying furniture—I have a blank check, hurrah, the fool doesn’t know what he’s about to get himself into—and we talked about lifestyles and what we like toeat and our schedules and all of that stuff. We had dinner, even watched a little TV together, before we came up here to bed.
It was the most mundane night imaginable. He’s putting in an effort. I didn’t think Ford was capable of something so domestic. And yet despite how boring and ordinary everything seemed on the surface, bubbling below that was the constant fear and worry that I might screw something up or he might take things too far, or what if I’m not good enough, or what if he turns out to be a violent psychopath, and a thousand other worries buzz around my head.
Now I’m supposed to go out there, get into bed, and sleep.
I feel like I might explode, but I can’t hide in here forever.
