I grip his arms, keeping him close. This feels imagined, like a part of my fantasies. But I’m touching him, cut muscles, his legs against my legs. I let out a breath. “And what if everyone says we shouldn’t be together—that it’s not right?” Every person has to learn to live alone at some point in their life.Why do we?I always wonder.Because it’s right, my conscience says.But I love him.But you’re co-dependent.But I love him.But it’s not okay.
I want our love to be right.
Why can’t it be right?
“No,” he immediately says, holding my face in two large hands. “If the whole world says living without each other is what we should do, then this will be the last wrong I make.”
Yes.
We connect to each other fully, his lips touching mine in passionate desperation, as though two people are literally trying to pull us apart, as though we’re giving them the middle finger, telling them to fuck off.
Fuck off.I love Loren Hale. I can’t live without him. However silly that may be, it is the undying truth. Even if hewas with another girl. Even if we never could touch. I could not live without Lo. He is as much a part of me as the sun is a part of the sky, as the Earth is to the universe.
I need him in order to wake up in the morning.
I need him to feel whole.
He clutches my hair, the long kiss stealing my breath. And without warning, he picks me up and throws me over his shoulder. Oh God. His hand grips my ass as he carries me out of the kitchen and up the stairs.
My heart has traveled to my throat.
On the second level, he opens the bedroom door and tosses me roughly on the mattress.
I struggle to catch the air that escapes my lungs, and when I do, I prop my body on my elbows and watch him watch me.
He unzips his jeans, never breaking my gaze. His shirt comes off next, uncovering his defined muscles that beckon me to touch. I undress with the same mastered efficiency, breathing so heavily that my ribs jut out and in with quick succession.
In this moment, I have no desire to touch myself. I want him on me. In me. I can wait for his hands, for his body, for his breath.
So I watch him as he walks to the nightstand, only in black boxer-briefs while I stay completely bare. He opens the drawer.
I sit on my knees, my eyes widening in delighted anticipation.
When he shuts it, my mouth drops a little. “I thought…”you were just getting a condom.“Are those…?” I’m imagining them. This has to be a fantasy. “Where’d you find those?” I would have seen silver handcuffs in our room! I would have jumped for joy and paraded them around like they were a bag of galleons.
He climbs onto the bed, on his knees in front of me, towering over my small frame. His lips lift in a devious smile. “A little black box,” he tells me.
“I need to start opening more boxes,” I say in a breathless whisper. “Are you going to cuff me to you?”
His grin lights up his whole face. “No, love.” And then he lifts me by the waist and sets me closer to our pillows. He clips one cuff around my wrist and then the other to a rung in the headboard.
Ohhh…my…
“Don’t move,” he instructs as he slips off his boxer-briefs. When he lowers his body against mine, I instinctively run my free hand across his shoulder, his bicep, sliding my fingers along his abs towards his cock.
He grabs my hand before I reach the best place. He shakes his head at me once in disapproval, but his lips betray him, rising as he soaks in my eager gaze.
“No touching,” he says, his voice forceful. He climbsoffthe bed, leaving me cold and alone on the mattress.
“Wait, I won’t—I promise.”Come back.
He disappears into the closet, and I wonder if this is a test that my therapist concocted. Is he supposed to leave me wanting and craving? Am I supposed to overpower this compulsive demon while I am in desperateneed?
I’m going to fail.
I already know it.
I bite my lip, weight crashing into me. I stay entirely still, expecting Lo to walk out fully dressed, to wave goodbye and go meet Ryke somewhere. This was all a game to get me to this point, imprisoned on my bed with only one hand for use.
