Page 89 of Wade’s Wrath

Fuck. He almost laughed at the irony. “Okay. Bad wording.”

“Very,” she agreed.

“But you know what I mean,” he insisted.

“I think I do,” she said.

Wade studied her face. “I want you.” Her breath caught, but he needed her to hear that part. “I want you in my bed.” Her cheeks pinked slightly. “I want you in my house.” Her eyes softened. “I want you behind my bar arguing with me about receipts and over pouring whiskey because you know it pisses me off.” A tiny smile appeared and then disappeared. Wade's chest hurt. “I want all of it.”

“Then what's the problem?” she asked.

“I need you to be sure that you want all the same things,” he said. He was met with her silence, and that was worse than her yelling.

Harlow stared at him for several seconds, and then she nodded slowly. “Okay.”

Wade frowned. “Okay?”

“You think I need time,” she said.

“Yeah, I do,” he agreed.

“And if I take that time?”

He didn't like where this was going. “Then you decide what comes next.”

“I get to decide whether I want to be with you,” she clarified.

“Yeah,” he breathed.

She nodded again. “Fine.”

Something cold settled in Wade's stomach. “Fine?”

“I'll take time,” she agreed. He should've felt relieved. This was what he wanted. Wasn't it? Fuck.

“Okay.” Harlow picked up her coffee, and Wade noticed that her hand was trembling slightly. Of course he fucking noticed because he noticed everything about her.

“Harlow,” he whispered, reaching for her.

“No,” she spat, “don’t touch me. You wanted me to decide.”

“I didn't mean right this second,” he insisted.

“You said I needed space,” she said.

“Yeah, I did,” he agreed.

“So I'm taking it.” Hearing her say that hurt more than it should have.

Wade's jaw tightened. “Good.” The word came out harder than he intended. Harlow looked at him, and there it was again—that flash of hurt. Wade hated himself.

“Good?” she repeated.

“Yeah,” he said. “Good.” He was doubling down, but he couldn’t help himself.

“Wow,” she breathed.

“I mean—” he started.