She nods, hair falling forward to shield her face. "With sixty thousand in student loans and nothing to show for it. I keep telling myself I'll go back someday, but..."
"But the debt keeps growing, and the possibility keeps shrinking." I finish for her, understanding the brutal math of poverty all too well. I wasn't born into money. I clawed my way up, crushed whoever I had to. The difference is, I had nothing to lose.
Wren had everything to lose. And she lost it.
"It's not just the money," she whispers, and when she looks up, there are tears gathering in those pale blue eyes. "It's the time. I'm twenty-two and I've spent the last five years just... surviving. Not living. Just making it to the next bill, the next shift." A single tear spills over, tracking down her cheek. "Sometimes I feel like I'm drowning and no one can see me."
Something cracks in my chest. Something fundamental and irreversible. I move without thinking, sliding my hands under her thighs and lifting her onto my lap in one fluid motion. She gasps, hands flying to my shoulders to steady herself.
"I see you, little bird." My voice is rougher than I intend, scraped raw by emotions I didn't know I possessed. "I fucking see you."
She weighs nothing. A feather could crush with one wrong move. Her body tenses for a moment, then melts against me, herface finding the crook of my neck. I can feel her tears, hot and wet against my skin, and my arms tighten around her.
"You've been so brave," I murmur into her hair, breathing in her scent—cheap drugstore shampoo and something uniquely her, something that makes my cock throb beneath her weight. "Such a good little girl, so strong all alone."
She shudders against me at the words, and I file that reaction away. My good little girl likes praise. Needs it, probably. Has been starved for it.
"You don't have to be alone anymore," I tell her, one hand sliding up to cradle the back of her head. My fingers tangle in her hair, not pulling yet, just holding. Owning. "I'm going to take care of everything."
Wren shifts on my lap, and I have to grit my teeth against the surge of lust that shoots through me. She has no idea what she's doing to me. How close I am to laying her out on this couch and showing her exactly what "taking care" means.
"Why?" she asks, lifting her head to look at me. Her eyes are red-rimmed, her cheeks tear-stained, and she's the most beautiful fucking thing I've ever seen. "Why would you do that for a stranger?"
I could lie. Could feed her some line about altruism, about seeing potential in her. Instead, I give her the truth.
"Because the moment I saw you, something inside me recognized something inside you." I trace her jawline with my thumb, feeling her pulse jump beneath my fingers. "Because I've spent thirty-eight years on this earth never wanting anything I couldn't buy or take. And then there you were, offering me champagne with shaking hands, and suddenly I was starving for something money can't buy."
Her eyes widen slightly. "What's that?"
“You.” The word hangs between us, heavy with promise.
I expect her to pull away. To be offended or frightened. Instead, she trembles against me, her pupils dilating until only a thin ring of blue remains.
"I don't understand," she whispers, but the way her body responds—the way she unconsciously presses closer, the catch in her breath—tells me she understands perfectly.
"Yes, you do, little bird." I let my hand slide from her hair down to the small of her back, pressing her more firmly against me. There's no way she can't feel my cock hardening beneath her. "You understand that I want to take care of you. Protect you. Possess you. You understand that I want to be the one you come to when you're hurt or scared or needy." My voice drops lower, darker. "You understand that I want to be your fucking world."
Her breath hitches, and I can see the pulse hammering in her throat. She's scared, but not of me. She's scared of how badly she wants what I'm offering.
"And what do you get out of it?" she asks, trying for practical but coming out breathless.
I smile, showing teeth. "Everything. I get you, Wren. In my home. Under my protection." My hand slides lower, cupping her ass through the sweatpants, feeling her jolt at the contact. "Under me."
Thunder crashes outside, and the lights flicker again. In the brief darkness, I feel her melt further against me, her forehead dropping to rest against mine.
"I've never..." she starts, then stops. Swallows. "I've never felt like this before.”
The admission sends a surge of possessive triumph through me so strong I nearly growl. She's innocent. Untouched by the world in ways that go beyond the physical. The need to corrupt and protect her in equal measure is overwhelming.
"Like what, little bird?" I coax, wanting—needing—to hear her say it.
"Like I'm... yours." The last word is barely audible, a confession torn from somewhere deep and vulnerable. "Like I've been waiting for you without knowing it."
Fuck. My cock is so hard it's painful, straining against my slacks. I want to devour her, to tear off her clothes and mark every inch of her skin. I want to spread her thighs and bury myself so deep inside her that she forgets there was ever a time before me.
But she's a wounded bird, and I need to be careful.
"That's because you have been," I tell her, letting my mouth brush against her ear. "You've been waiting for someone to see your value. To cherish you." My hand tightens possessively on her ass. "To claim you."
