Page 15 of Cherished
“Hunter,” she gasps.
Shit. Perhaps I’m hugging her too tightly. I let up, and she takes a breath.
“Sorry,” I say gently. But then, my brow knits. She sits up, and I set her down on my sheets and slip out of the bed. I grunt and pace the floor for maybe two full minutes before she reaches for me with a hand.
“Hunter?”
“What were you thinking!” I roar. I whirl at her, furious. I’m not madather, I’m just so fucking shaken and terrified that I could have lost her. But instantly, I know my tone was a mistake.
She glares at me. A fire I’ve never seen in her flickers around the edges of her eyes.
“Excuse me?” she snaps. “I’m sorry, am I your guest or you damn prisoner?!”
“Mia, listen to me,” I growl.
“No, you listen to me!” she spits back. “I was just going to my job!”
“You don’t—” I pinch the bridge of my nose and measure my breaths. “I forgot you had it, but you don’t need it.”
She wrinkles her nose. “Yes, I do.”
“No,” I grunt. “You’re here, with me.”
“Yeah, until—”
“There’s no ‘until,’” I mutter. “I mean, there doesn’t have to be an until.”
Mia’s eyes widen. A blush blooms in her cheeks, and she worries at her bottom lip. “What?” she whispers.
I move to the bed and drop to my knees next to it, eye level with her. “You could just stay.” I reach out, and my hand finds hers. Her fingers entwine with mine, and my pulse quickens. My cock throbs at the touch of her skin to mine, even if it’s just our fingers.
She blushes deeper, and I can see that she’s trying to hold back a smile. I like that it’s there, and I like that she’s covering it, trying to stay mad when she’s not.
“Why were you so upset?”
“He had a knife to your throat, Mia,” I growl.
She shakes her head. “Besides that. It seems like it’s more than just that. You were upset that I was out at all. And Roger seemed so worried about getting you back.Youseemed worried. Like being outside was painful for you?”
I close my eyes and take a breath. There’s no use sugar-coating this, and I won’t lie to this girl.
“Mia,” I say softly. This is it. She’ll either run for the hills or she won’t, but she needs to know. “When I said before that I don’t get out much…” I scowl. “That was a half-truth.”
She frowns curiously, and I take both her hands in mine.
“I don’t get out at all, Mia.”
“Hunter, what do you mean, at all?”
“I mean I hadn’t left this penthouse in three years until I barged into your aunt’s apartment yesterday.”
Her jaw drops. Her eyes look stunned. “Wait, what do you mean?”
“I mean that literally, Mia,” I groan. “I mean I literally haven’t stepped foot outside this penthouse and the garden in a little over three damn years.”
She blinks in shock, and I grip her hands tighter.
“It’s not agoraphobia or anything, before you ask. It’s not a condition, or anxiety, or any of that. In fact, I’d love to leave this place more than almost anything. But I can’t.”
