Page 85 of Stealing Blinds

Relief washes over him. “Well, so am I. We’ll be scared together.”

All the intrusive thoughts in my head gang up on me. Trust issues and apprehensiveness about the lifestyle here. But most are drowned out by my mother’s assertion that I loaded the gun when I stole the Stanley Cup, so being pissed when someone shoots it on my behalf is hypocritical because this is the only way to survive. During a call earlier, I merely alluded to what occurred last night, but she caught on easily. And she had a point.

“So, you’ll be okay tied down, telling available women I’m your girlfriend, that I—”

“No. I will not be telling anyone you’re my girlfriend.” A line between his brow etches his ire before he turns away, splashing his face with water while my stomach cramps with anxiety. Five agonizing seconds later, he spins back with conviction and motions to the city. “I will be telling everyone that you’re mine. My person. My woman. My whole fucking world.”

It’s a declaration I’m desperate for, but unable to clutch.

“That’s ambitious.” I bark out a wry laugh. “What if it doesn’t work out? You’re making promises you know nothing about. You’ve never done this. And I’m not in a place to risk everything and get hur—”

“You’re right. I can’t see the future, Sly.” His arms fly out of the water, showering us both with chlorinated pellets. “I know jack shit about relationships or commitment or whatever label we slap on what I’m trying to do with you here. And I’ll probably fuck up. I will say stupid things. I will get it wrong sometimes. I will piss you off by killing assholes who absolutely had it coming.” He slants his head in what appears to be a dare.

I don’t bite. I’m too captivated by his unhinged rant.

“I might hold on too tight because the thought of losing you—like I could have last night—or even the thought of you being scared or sad makes me feel insane. You challenge me like no one ever has, but I challenge you right back. So, for those reasons and others, we’ll probably fight. And maybe that will hurt. But I will never hurt you intentionally. Yes, it’s a risk. I’d bet everything on us though.”

He smacks his chest, as if there’s a physical pain he’s pointing to. “You are all I want. I know this because I don’t usually feel shit. I don’t let myself. And for months … you’ve had me …” His hand migrates to his throat, mimicking his admission. “It’s like fucking choking or drowning in my need for you. I am fucking in this. I will do whatever it takes to show you I am in this, but I need you to be in this with me.”

This larger-than-life man, who I once believed couldn’t take anything seriously, poured more passion into that response than I’ve ever witnessed from anyone—certainly regarding me.

The awe from being on the receiving end of his reverence balls up at the base of my throat. Again, I’m at a loss for words. “I don’t …”

He mistakes my being stupefied for rejecting him, pressing his fingers to his forehead and giving me his back. “Christ, Sylvie, I’m … I’m on edge tonight, baby. Just go to bed.”

I knot the T-shirt at my waist, select a playlist on my phone that his brother sent me, and slip into the water, submerging myself up to my shoulders before standing tall again. “I’m not going anywhere. What happened to one moment at a time?”

“I wanted to give you that, but—” He breaks off abruptly when he turns to find his white T-shirt clinging to my curves like a second skin and my nipples poking through, leaving little to the imagination. “Fuck, you’re … you are stunning.” His fervent gaze lingers on my breasts until it dips down to my thin red thong, setting me on fire, even while I’m immersed in the cool water. He flexes his fist, his voice gruff and menacing. “I’m trying to take care of you, Sylv, but if you keep taunting me, I’m going to snap.”

He has been taking care of me. Even when I questioned his methods, that much was apparent. But I crave the man who takes what he wants too.

“Last night, you said you were keeping me, as if I didn’t have a choice.” I swim around him until I reach the catercorner wall and hoist myself to perch on the travertine. “So, if I tell you this doesn’t work for me, you still won’t let me go?”

“Fuck no,” he growls, teetering on the manic edge of that snapping he mentioned. “You’ll need to decide whether that makes me a controlling dick, a man obsessed, a friend with your best interest in mind, or a combination of all three.” His teeth gnash, all his features sharpen, and his baby blues morph to a black abyss as he rakes them over me. “But I will not be the asshole I used to be. I have no intention of fucking you when you’ve got one foot out the door.”

I like his possessiveness more than I should.

“Noted.” I lean back on my hands and kick my legs in the water to the beat of “Come Together” by The Beatles. “Both feet are in the pool now.”

He doesn’t find my quip cute in the least. His focus darts to my breasts again, and the man appears to be battling something fierce. “Please go inside.”

“Or what?” I loosen the knot on the T-shirt and toy with the hem.

His molten eyes track every smidgen the material moves. “Or I’ll fuck all the choices out of you and chain your goddamn body to mine.”

There he is.

“Okay.” I pull the sodden T-shirt over my head, dropping it beside me, so that I’m in nothing but my red silk thong. “That’s what I want. Everything you said, but definitely that.”

In the span of one frenzied heartbeat, he leaps across the pool, throws me over his shoulder, and clomps up the steps. I assume he’s carting me inside since I’m practically naked on the roof of his family’s penthouse, but he messes with his phone for a second before dropping it and sauntering over to a huge closet. I can’t see what he’s doing at first, but I crane my neck to get a better angle, which also keeps all the blood from rushing to my face. With my upper half still dangling behind him, he pulls out what appears to be a massive fabric float, tosses it into the pool, and jumps into the water with me.

He drags me down his body, fisting my hair and conquering my mouth the second my legs wrap around his waist.

Every swipe of his tongue is like the flick of a match. Sparks and embers and kindling for a tinderbox of desire. One I tried to snuff out, to no avail. We’ve long surpassed exploring each other. This is determined decimation at its finest. His belief that we could set a forest on fire burns through our union.

Soaking wet and set aflame. Like our kiss in the ocean.

Our bodies writhe, and he presses me against him, revealing how untethered he is, how ravenous he is for me. And how ravenous I am for him.