Chapter Sixteen #2
What I’m hearing is that we’re both single because we’re smart enough to know our twisted wishes aren’t healthy to pursue. It’s nice to learn I’m not alone. “Are you a caretaker?”
“Veritably.”
“Me too.”
“I know.” His eyes pull off his phone for a second and linger on mine.
An odd sensation sprouts in my chest. “I don’t like to be.”
Those bright green eyes deepen. “I know.”
“I kind of reject it, to be honest. I hate the compulsion, so I isolate myself, so I don’t have to worry about others or what they think or how they are. Because the second I’m with someone, I forget myself entirely.”
“Yeah. I know, little goddess. I know.”
I feel like he does. Like he…gets exactly what I’m saying. Somehow.
Continuing my trend of idiocy, I say something even more stupid. “You know…”
“Hm?”
“I’m not exactly mentally stable.”
His grip on his phone tightens. Then he lowers the device. “Aren’t you?”
Heat crawls up my neck. “Not even a little bit.”
“Must’ve missed that. I’ll have to work on my observation skills.”
“Maybe you should set up cameras to better observe me.”
He swallows, wets his lips. “Maybe I should.”
My stomach twists. “Would be hot and cool of you, probably. Very villain mastermind.”
“Q…quite.”
My heart rate leaps into my throat, nearly strangling me. “Are we…”
His breath seems to catch. “Are we…?”
“Is this banter?”
The red in his cheeks grows until it’s unmistakably coating the curves of his ears. His dark hair brushes across the crimson when he rustles it. “Pretty sure this is…flirting.”
“Oh.” The heat in my neck reaches my own cheeks. “Okay. Yeah. I…thought so. Sorry.”
“Sorry?”
“I don’t.” My breath quivers. “I don’t know what I’m doing. You’re not my type. I’m just…”
“Not your type?”
I shake my head. “You’re too sweet. Respectful.
Kind. Other adjectives that mean not toxic enough for me to not get bored .
I do this thing where I try to act in the way I think the other person wants me to act, but you’re absolutely not interested in me, so I don’t know why I’m doing this and—” I suck in a breath, fight to quell the panic.
What am I doing?
What am I doing?
Silent, Mars rises. Drops his phone. Steps around my coffee table.
He’s in front of me in a moment, face burning, eyes…
scorching. His hand lifts, planting to the back of my chair.
My throat closes as his other hand cups my chin, tips my head back until my eyes are glued to his.
“You don’t think I’m interested, so you’re not just filling in what you think I want right now? ”
I gulp.
“Your type,” he murmurs, “is kind of concerning.”
“That’s the best part.”
My breath hitches when he leans in and grazes the birthmark on my cheek with his lips. “Consent is kind of important. Or so they say.”
“Who’s they ?”
He swears. “Who knows? Mentally stable people, probably.”
“Can’t relate.”
“To be certain.” His grip slips lower, strokes my pulse, holds my throat. “All good, little goddess?”
I’m dazed, drifting on a cloud of bad decisions. I’m not sure what’s happening, how we got here, if I’m awake, if I’m dreaming. I thought I was just working, and talking to Rouge, and… I don’t know much. But. I do know one thing. And that one thing leaves my lips in a breathy whisper, “Very good.”
“I don’t want to scare you.”
“Yes, that’s why you brought a lock pick set to the function.”
His lips spread, teeth bared, smile unhinged. “Well, you took my key away. I had to do something.”
“Knock?”
“That’s boring. You hated it.”
It was so, so boring. I hated it so much. “You’re very red, Mars.”
“Like the planet, not the god.” He lowers his forehead to mine and whispers, “Told you.” Moving his hand off my chair, he captures my wrist and presses my palm to his chest, where his heart is thundering.
“Can you feel what you’re doing to me?” His grip tightens around my neck, cutting off my air for a second as his thumb digs into my pulse.
“Please tell me you aren’t scared. Please tell me your heart’s pounding for the same reason mine is. ”
I suck in breath when he lets me and whisper, “I don’t know what this is.”
“A confession.”
I swallow, hard.
“I like you, Ceres. I have from the first moment I saw you. Would you do me the honor of allowing me to be a toxic mess in your presence for as long as you can stand it?”
“I don’t know if you’re toxic enough for m—”
He strangles the words from my tongue. “The answer is yes, love .”
“ Love? Isn’t that jumping plot points, kind of significantly?” I croak, drinking down whatever air he lets me have.
“Give a starving man something, please.”
“ Please stop being so polite.”
He traces the bridge of my nose with the tip of his and exhales a curse. “Do we need a safe word? Already?”
I laugh.
“Come on, Ceres. Humor my attempts at respect.”
“What word will make you comfortable, mas—”
He chokes me. “Don’t you even dare. I will die from a heart attack right here if you—” He swears. “—say that.”
Innocent as a flower, I smile brighter than I have in possibly years.
This time, his swear hits the tip of my nose as he kisses it. “You’re so pretty, Ceres.” His lips lower, taunting mine. “So, so pretty.”
My lashes fall to my cheeks.
He kisses me, gently, eliciting a complaining sound. “Hush.” He takes my lip between his teeth, nips, and frees. “I’m savoring you. Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted this?”
If he’s liked me from the first moment he saw me, that would be… “About three years?”
“Three years of agony and anxiety. Wanting and not having.”
“Walking into my house and commissioning help with a Flag Day festival is the weirdest pick-up line I have ever heard.”
He nestles his lips at my jaw, and I lose grasp of my thoughts. He says, “That’s, actually, a totally different scheme.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah. Sorry. We’re still doing that. It’s for Jove’s sake. I’m sure you understand.”
“Fair enough.” My lungs squeeze when he replaces his fingers with his mouth and licks my pulse. “ Mars .”
His teeth tease. “What?”
I grip his shirt, begging him closer.
His fingertips dance down my arm, then skate back up. “Talk to me, little goddess. I need your voice in my ears.”
My breaths shorten. “More, please?”
“More? I’m barely surviving this. You’re intoxicating. Ambrosia.” He shakes when he inhales. “You smell so good. And you taste…” He blesses me with a damp, open kiss, hot breath coating my skin as he nuzzles. “No. I won’t survive more . You’ll behave yourself and take what I give you.”
“Like a good girl?”
“ Quit ,” he moans.
I laugh again, and he wraps me up in his arms, cocooning me in their warmth, his scent. So sweet. My dark romance male lead in real life smells like cake , of all things.
Forehead braced against my shoulder, he sighs. “I didn’t plan this. I was so genuinely expecting to continue reconnaissance for at least another month. I don’t know what to do with myself.”
“I could give you some excellent literature with ample suggestions? I have whole bookcases full. We could review together.”
“Respectfully, I am going to need you to calm down. Just a bit. Just enough for me to remember what thinking feels like.” Much to my disappointment, he unravels, pulls back, and peers down at me.
Hooking a finger beneath my chin, he examines me, thoroughly, and murmurs yet another curse.
“So—” He swears. “—pretty. It’s no wonder people open up around you.
” He presses his thumb to my lips. “I won’t let them take advantage of you anymore.
I’m not keen on sharing your attention.”
Jeepers. I wasn’t prepared for him to talk dirty to me.
“You’ll be lucky if I let you out of the house.”
Good thing I’m seated; my knees have turned to pudding.
“We will be biking together, though.”
“What?” I protest. “I don’t know how.”
“I’m, obviously, going to teach you.”
I pout. “I’d prefer it if you teach me other things.”
His thumb swipes. “Maybe once I’ve taught my heart how to beat normally again.”
Rolling my eyes off him, I cross my arms. “Lame.”
“What do you really expect me to do five seconds after confessing an interest that, thus far, hasn’t been verbally reciprocated? Throw you in bed and ravish you?”
“Don’t be stupid. I know real relationships aren’t built on smut alone.”
“Articulate your expectations, then.”
I regard him, dryly. “ Articulate my expectations? Are we going to sit down and pull together a relationship agreement?”
This man’s gaze shifts, getting dangerously close to seriously considering that .
“Mars.”
“What? It’s not a bad idea. I’m afraid of being too much of myself too fast and pushing you away.
You’re encouraging husband-and-wife tier activities as though they wouldn’t reinvent your brain.
Getting limitations and expectations down in a written format is a good way to keep me from conning you into date nights—at a therapist’s office. ”
I narrow my eyes.
“Don’t give me that.”
“Fine. You’re right. First off, what are we?”
“What do you mean?”
“A couple? Enemies with benefits? Dating? A fling?”
His eyes close, and his grip on my chin reprimands. “Still enemies, really?”
“Friends are boring. I hate it. Enemies is a compliment. Could you maybe whisper I hate you in my ear sometime? I think I’d like that.”
His shoulders sag. “I’m not sure I can lie that blatantly given that my feelings for you are quite entirely the opposite.”
“Hm. How disappointing.”
“Are you trying to break my heart?”
“No, I’m trying to identify my emotions amidst the haze of whatever it is you’re doing to me. What do you want us to be?”
He wets his lips and pulls his attention off my face. “Do you want the safe answer or the honest one?”
“I think you know.”
“Husband and wife.”
My eyes widen. “You’re really speedrunning the plot here.”
“I can’t help it. I…love you.”
I curse as my heart thuds. “Skip to the end, why don’t you?
What happened to hi, hello, how are you?
We barely know each other. Real relationships also aren’t built on attraction alone.
You haven’t told me a single flash-back-worthy story.
I don’t know an ounce of your trauma. It’s been a matter of weeks, Mars. When did love join the group chat?”
He shrinks. “I don’t know. I’ve been enamored for years. Something about you is just celestial.”
“My name, probably. It’s a constellation.”
“Ceres…”
“Do you want me or not?” I ask.
Breath leaves him. “I want you. Desperately.”
“Then act like it, and give me something no one else has been able to.”
“What’s that?”
Reaching, I grip his collar and pull him in.
“Credit. I know what I want, and my vocabulary includes four-letter words like stop . Use some common sense. If you can’t be blatantly you, what are we even thinking of doing here?
If being yourself pushes me away, shove.
I don’t want to waste my time on something doomed to fail.
Prove to me I’m also not too much for you, and let’s not do either of us the disservice of being anything less than our full selves. ”
His gaze drops from my eyes to my mouth, then he mutters, “Too much for me?” His lips close over mine as he twists my hand out of his shirt, tangles our fingers, and pins them against my seat’s backrest. “Don’t be stupid,” he whispers into my mouth.
“I want you like painkiller after I’ve been sliced into a thousand pieces. I need you to lace every nerve.”
My stomach flips, and flutters rise.
“Marry me.” He bites my lip.
A whimper escapes. “I’ll think about it.”
“No. You’ll do as you’re told.”
I shiver.
“What do you say when I give you a command, Ceres?”
Flushed, I repeat, “I’ll think about it, villain,” and, nevertheless, he smiles.