When I’m done setting his hair in place for him, I bring my hand back once again and grip his t-shirt. “That’s why you gave me that permission slip, didn’t you? So I could be free.”
Something passes through his face, clenching everything for a second. “It’s Friday. Would you have snuck out to go dancing?”
I bite my lip and nod.
He bends down then, his chest pushing at mine, his fingers tightening in my hair to make a fist and his other hand pressing in the small of my back.
“So consider this, me reining you in,” he growls. “Me putting a leash on you and making you follow the rules.”
A current runs through me at his low, rough growl, at his dominating words. “I don’t wanna go haunt a bridge or a street somewhere.”
“So you decided to haunt me, instead?”
Something about that makes me bite my lip again. “Yes.”
“And why’s that?”
“Because I wanna talk to you.”
“Talk to me about what?”
I swallow as my eyes sting with tears. “I know. I know why you beat him up. Ben.”
His eyes grow bright then, violent even, his jaw clenching hard. “Why?”
“Because you wanted to,” I whisper, pressing my knuckles on his back. “It wasn’t because he was the first person you saw. It wasn’t a bad coincidence. It was because you were looking for him. Because he betrayed you. Because my sister betrayed you.”
There’s no surprise on his face when I say that.
In fact for a second there’s something very akin to a dark sort of amusement rippling through his stunning features. “You heard.”
“You were standing under my window.”
“I was.”
Suddenly I understand. “You were… you knew I’d listen in.”
His mouth curls up in a tight lopsided smile. “You looked pretty upset when you had to leave the room after dinner ended.”
“Was this your way of putting a leash on me so I wouldn’t go around breaking rules to find out what happened?”
“Yes.”
My hands move then.
I let go of his shirt at the small of his back, and creep both my arms up and get them around his neck just to hold him closer, tighter.
Putting a leash of my own around him.
“I hated dinner,” I tell him. “I hated everything about it.”
His chest undulates on a slight chuckle. “Why?”
I tug at his hair. “Because you ate everything on your plate.”
“And that’s somehow objectionable to you.”
“Yes,” I insist. “You ate everything and you were so quiet. You even cleaned up after. When I knew, I could see how…” – I flick my eyes over his sharp, jutting features – “angry you were. Your shoulders were all tight and the way you’d clench your jaw every two seconds. But you never said a word. You were so nice, Arrow.”
