“I don’t care,” he says flatly. “I need to know.”
“Fine,” I mutter. “He showed up at our apartment. He said he was sorry for intruding, but that he needed us to hand over our car keys and to go with him. I tried to run down the hall, but he grabbed me and said that he didn’t want to hurt either of us, he just needed to borrow us for a little while. He had two guys with him. They took our car keys, but not our house keys. He said they were moving our cars to a nearby parking lot. When his guys returned, they put our car keys in the kitchen, made us take our house keys, and then very politely ordered that we go with them.”
“He didn’t have a gun on you? He didn’t hurt you? Touch you in anyway?”
“No. He did warn me not to yell at him, but that was it. He said he just needed to send a message to Forsaken, but that he didn’t want to hurt us.”
“That it?” he asks.
“He said for me to tell you that nobody is safe,” I say. His expression darkens and he narrows his eyes. It only lasts a moment before he shakes it off and stands.
“You think you can let me get some sleep now?” he asks with a yawn.
“I just…” I say and then think better of it. He wants to leave and go back to bed, but I don’t want him to go. Squirming uncomfortably in my spot, I reach out, but then pull away. I can’t bring myself to tell him what I need. But I don’t have to, it seems. He looks down at me thoughtfully.
“Don’t want to be alone, I get it.” He walks across the room. My heart falls a little as he nears the door. He stops a foot away, reaches out and shuts the door, then turns the lock. I watch in breathless anticipation as he cuts off the light, then rounds the bed and climbs in the other side. Slipping beneath the covers, he lies on his back and pounds his pillow into submission. Yawning, he wiggles in his spot. I turn toward him, full of nervous excitement and wonder. He’s so close—close enough to touch—but I’m not certain this is something I should be pursuing. I know I want to pursue it, I just don’t know if it’s smart to.
“Yeah,” I whisper. His eyes flutter closed. “Thank you for not being a dick.”
He opens one eyeball and narrows it. “After weeks of avoiding me, now you want to talk?”
“We don’t have to talk, I’m just too tense to fall asleep right now,” I mutter.
“Okay, fine,” he says in a gravelly voice. He reaches out and pulls me to him. Our bodies are flush against one another and as I tilt my chin up, I find that we’re practically nose to nose. I’m stunned by his action, but beyond that, excited to be so close to him. After this dance we’ve been doing for weeks now, I’m about to explode just by the anticipation of it all.
His arm around my waist slides down to my hip and his hand snakes around to my ass. His commanding touch kneads my supple flesh. He bucks his hips into mine. He’s already half hard. A needy whimper falls from my lips as he continues his movements. Knead. Buck. Knead. Buck. He doesn’t look so tired anymore, but rather, a man driven. The last time we were here, I pulled away. I won’t be making the same mistake twice.
Awake and determined, he hooks his thumbs around the waist of my pajama pants and panties and yanks them down. His movements are so quick that I barely have time to react, but he doesn’t care. He slips a hand between my thighs causing me to tense up. Using brute force, he lifts my leg into a bent position where I’m left exposed at my center. Being bare before him is nerve-wracking. I look down at my thighs, which are much too thick and my belly which is slightly rounded for no reason other than my love of milkshakes and my hips, which are wider than I’d like. I wonder if I measure up to the women he’s used to having sex with. This thought sends me down the path of wondering how many women he’s had sex with, how many names he never got or forgot entirely, and if he’d recognize every woman he’s been with or if some are just a blur.