49 | It drives me insane for reasons I don't understand
The sunrise spills through the curtains, weak and pale, but it's enough to catch on her.
I'm already awake, have been for hours, sitting in the armchair by the window, a newspaper folded in my lap, but I haven't read a damn word of it.
My eyes are on Aurelia, and they've been there since she stirred from the bed we shared last night.
She's standing by the closet, slipping into a long summer dress, the fabric light and soft, clinging to her in a way that makes my chest tighten.
Her ginger hair tumbles loose, a cascade of curls that glow like fire in the sun, and I can't look away.
She's beautiful, too beautiful, and it's doing something to me.
I shift in the chair, my fingers curling around the edges of the paper, crinkling it louder than I mean to.
She doesn't turn, doesn't acknowledge me, just keeps moving, graceful, deliberate, like she's putting on a show she doesn't even know I'm watching.
My jaw clenches. I've never felt this before, this... need. It's not just want. It's possession, raw and ugly, clawing up from somewhere deep inside me.
I've had women over the years, but none have ever stuck in my head like this, none have ever made me feel like I'd burn the world down just to keep them close.Aurelia's different.
She's avoiding me, though. I noticed it the second her eyes fluttered open this morning. Every time I try to catch her gaze, she flushes, pink creeping up her cheeks, soft and maddening before she looks away.
It's driving me insane.
My fingers itch to grab her, to force her to look at me, to see me, but I stay rooted to the chair, watching her like a predator sizing up prey.
Did I do something wrong last night? It was our first night in the same bed, her body so close I could feel the heat of her even with the space she kept between us.
She'd stayed on her side, like she was afraid to roll an inch closer to me.
At one point, I swore she'd tip right off the edge, her breathing shallow and uneven, like she was fighting sleep just to keep that distance.
I replay it in my head, dissecting every second. I hadn't touched her but I'd wanted to, fuck, I'd wanted to drag her against me, feel her softness under my hands, taste that blush on her skin, but I'd held back. Barely.
My control's a thin thread with her, and it's fraying fast. Maybe she sensed it, that hunger simmering under my skin? Maybe that's why she won't look at me now, why she's pulling that dress over her shoulders with her back half-turned, like she's shielding herself from me.
The thought pisses me off.
"Aurelia," I say, my voice low, testing her.
She freezes for a split second, her hands pausing at the hem of her dress, but she doesn't turn. Doesn't answer. Just keeps moving, smoothing the fabric down her hips, and I feel it, the flare of something dark and possessive twisting tighter in my chest.
She's acting like I'm not even here.
I set the newspaper aside, slow and deliberate, letting it hit the table with a soft thud. Her shoulders twitch at the sound, but still nothing.
My patience snaps.
I stand, crossing the room in a few strides, and stop just behind her. Close enough to smell her—something floral, sweet, intoxicating. Close enough to see the way her curls brush the back of her neck, that pale strip of skin I want to mark with my teeth.
"Look at me," I say, quieter this time, but there's an edge to it, a command she can't ignore.
She hesitates, then finally turns her head, just enough for me to catch those wide, amber eyes.
They're nervous, flickering with something I can't read, and that blush blooms again, staining her cheeks. She looks away fast, down at the floor, and I feel a need build in my throat.
"Don't do that," I mutter, stepping closer. She's trapped now, the dresser at her front, me at her back, and I can see the way her breath hitches. "Don't hide from me."
My hand lifts, almost on its own, hovering near her arm. I want to touch her, I need to, but I stop myself, curling my fingers into a fist instead since she doesn't want me to touch her.
But It doesn't stop the way my mind's already spinning out, imagining her under me, those curls spread across my pillow, her voice breaking on my name.
"Did I scare you last night? Did I do something wrong" I ask, forcing the words out, needing to know.
Her lips part, but she doesn't speak, just shakes her head a little, too quick. A lie, maybe. Or half a truth.
I lean in, my shadow falling over her, and her scent floods me again.
"You don't have to be afraid of me," I say, but it's bullshit, and we both know it.
I'm not safe. Not for her. Not when Ciara looms over the marriage like a fucking cloud. I have already forgotten about her, but Aurelia has been badly hurt by her, it's not something she can forget with a snap of my fingers.
She finally meets my eyes again, just for a second, and it's like a jolt straight through me.
"I'm not," she whispers, so soft I almost miss it, and then she's ducking under my arm, slipping away to the other side of the room.
She's hiding something. And fuck, I want to tear it out of her.
Because the thought of her running from me? Of her keeping even the smallest part of herself locked away?
It drives me insane for reasons I don't understand.
Possessiveness is an ugly thing, something I never thought myself capable of.