AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“You’re my girlfriend, remember? We’re dating?”
He’s still smirking, but I’m sure I can detect some bitterness in his tone.
“Is something wrong?” I ask.
“No, just something that came into my head earlier when we were…”
“When you went full BM?”
He grins. “We’re going to have our own private language soon. Can you guess what PV is?”
“Uh… persuasively vivacious?”
I beam at him, a silly, over-the-top expression, and he laughs.
“I was thinking perfect virgin, but that works too.”
“If I’m a perfect virgin, doesn’t that mean I’ll stop being perfect once we… you know?”
I wish I could raise the topic with complete confidence, without the nerves clinging to me. When I saw how massive he was and felt him on my ass, thrusting obsessively, all the doubt came crashing back. I never thought I’d say this, but thank God for my period. It bought me some time. Well, kind of, sort of.
I won’t think about that. A girl is allowed to have nerves, isn’t she?
“What was it?” I ask. “The thing that came into your head.”
He waves a hand. “It doesn’t matter.”
“It obviously does,” I say.
“Just you with another man.”
“You’ve got nothing to worry about there,” I say, part of me wanting to run, bash the door down, and escape this place before I’m trapped. When he leaves, there will be loneliness, a demon propped on my chest, making it impossible to sleep and breathe. A bigger piece of me hungers for his jealousy and to know he will always treat me like I’m his. I belong to him because I am, and I do. Is that what he’s hinting at?
“Why does that make you so angry?” I ask.
He looks at me for a long time, then lowers his gaze. I almost thought he was going to use the L word there for a second—something about the way he stared—but that would be so fast. Too fast? Nope. Not for me.
Then he looks down at his steak, cutting aggressively. “I shouldn’t talk like this. I don’t want to make you feel trapped.”
I wince. He’s hit the issue so accurately, as if he was aiming for it.
“I’m not trapped,” I say. “I can leave anytime I want.”
“I know that,” he replies, his voice fierce as he holds me steady in his gaze again. “But do you?”
Closing my eyes for a moment, I take a breath, and suddenly I’m back there—the stench of rotting meat, the sound of the neighbors leaving for work and arriving home, and me, frozen, mouth dry, and my soul in pain.
“Do you know what I wished for most?” I whisper as tears spring to my eyes. “A little baby to hold, to rock in my arms. I remember thinking I’d never leave my child. I’d never leave them alone and … and… I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
I stand, chair legs screeching, and rush from the room, moving so quickly I trip and almost smash into the wall. Then my man is there, sweeping me into his arms.
He holds me even as I disintegrate, the pain turning my legs to Jell-O and sending me to the floor. I melt, and he follows me. We end up lying on the floor together, spooning, Luke holding me tenderly and kissing the top of my head. His voice, when it comes, is a low, reassuring whisper.
“Whatever it is, I’m here for you,” he says. “Whatever happened, whatever you had to face… You don’t have to do it alone. I’m here, Jane.”
“I’ve ruined dinner. That’s date number two ruined, and lying like that can’t be comfortable for your shoulder.”
“I don’t feel a goddamn thing except for your pain,” he growls. “I don’t care if our first date takes a thousand tries. I’m not going anywhere.”
He holds me so gently that somehow the words come. “It was silly. I was only a kid, but that’s what I wanted.”
“Is that what you still want?” he asks.
“What? Children?”
I hope he can’t hear the hope in my voice, far too much of it boiling up through me, tempting, taunting as if I could ever let that happen—as if I could ever allow myself to believe. His hand smooths over my belly.
“Do you?” I ask.
“I asked first.”
“Well, I asked second, and I don’t care about the rules.”
He chuckles, his breath warm on my neck. “If I found the right woman, I’d have a mansion full of kids. Four, five, six, seven… as many as my wife would give me.”
“So you’d get married first?” I whisper, stroking my hand across his knuckles. It shouldn’t feel this comfortable lying on the floor, but it’s more comfortable than it has any right to be. The rug is plush, the carpet clean, and comfier than some beds from my old life.
“Not necessarily.” His hand makes soft circling patterns on my stomach. “But there would be a marriage somewhere along the way. Your turn…”
