The tattoo on his back is of an eagle and the American flag. The American flag fades into the eagle who’s staring right at me with his eyes.
“I don’t know,” I answer honestly.
“You should go to the bathroom,” he suggests.
“Are you sending me to the bathroom so you can run away?” I blurt out without realizing it.
He chuckles. “Baby, you think I would do that to you?”
“I don’t know what you would do to me,” I quip.
He takes a deep breath before turning those gorgeous eyes of his to lock with mine. “Bella, I’m not sayin’ we’re gonna get married or some shit. You’re livin’ in my house. You’re hot. We had sex. Don’t complicate it anymore than it needs to be.”
Him saying that to me is like someone dosing me with cold water. His words were so cold and unfeeling. Is he regretting sleeping with me?
“So…?”
He climbs back on the bed and faces me. “Bella, what we just shared was amazing. Don’t go and fuck it up by being a girl. Go to the bathroom and then sit in the bathtub. Trust me, you’re gonna be feelin’ this tomorrow.”
Since I’m too stubborn to admit I’m already feeling the sting and ungodly amount of stretching he gave me, I hop off the bed like nothing’s wrong. It’s not until I get in the shower, I wince.
