Chapter 13 #3
“For the next forty-eight hours, I’m going to make sure that my friends stop visiting.
You promised me that you wouldn’t leave, and I’m holding you to that.
When I text you, you’ll read the message I sent you and reply.
But just me. I don’t care if you respond to anyone else’s texts.
You can if you want, but I won’t ask you to.
That’s your choice. You’ll carry the cell I got for you with you all of the time from now on.
You’ll take it to the bathroom and set it on the counter while you shower.
You’ll take it to bed with you and charge it every night.
When I call, you’ll answer and we’ll talk as often as I can.
For the next forty-eight hours, I want you to think about what being mine means and if you want it as much as I do. ”
“And if I don’t?” she asks.
“Fuck if I know,” I admit. “I’m hoping you will. If you don’t, I’ll give you enough money to get an apartment in a town of your choice. I’ll help you find a job and make sure you’re safe before I leave you alone to get on with your life, I guess.”
“You’d do that?” she questions.
“I’d like to think I would. But I don’t know if I could leave knowing I’d never see you again,” I confess.
“Do you think two days will change anything?” she asks.
“My entire life changed in a moment when I first saw you. I think a lot of things can happen in forty-eight hours.”
Her eyes look up at me with so much hope, and I don’t know if she even realizes that she wants this as much as I do.
“If you feel mad, I want you to call me. If I don’t answer, I want you to text me everything you’re feeling. Don’t hold back. Don’t filter. Tell me everything, and I’ll take it, and then I’ll figure out a way to either make it better or say sorry.”
“That’s crazy,” she says, smiling with her confusion.
“That’s the bare minimum, amore mio,” I assure her. “But you need to eat. The refrigerator is full. Have you eaten at all since Knight made you that sandwich?” I question.
She nods.
“What? Because nothing has gone.”
“I made too many pancakes. I had the leftovers for breakfast yesterday. Then I had the leftover sandwich for dinner.”
“Jesus,” I hiss. “That’s not enough. Three meals a day, plus snacks, every day, Verity.
I’m serious. Food is never a test. Nothing between us is a test. Food is another bare minimum.
Nothing except the alcohol is off-limits.
I told you before, but this time I want to make sure you hear me.
The food is yours; eat it. All of it. At least three meals every day, plus snacks, every day. Okay?”
“Okay,” she says reluctantly.
“And I don’t want you to sleep in here anymore,” I blurt.
“What? Why?” she gasps.
“Sleep in my bed while I’m not here. It’s bigger, the mattress is better, and I have a TV in my room. And I don’t want you sleeping in your clothes anymore. If you don’t have pajamas, you can wear my shirts and boxers, or just my shirts if that’s more comfortable.”
“I’m not sleeping in your bed, or wearing your clothes, that’s—”
“The bare minimum,” I tell her again, trying to make her understand that making sure she’s comfortable, safe, and well-fed is literally the lowest expectation she should have of me.
I want her to expect the world from me and know I’ll do anything I can to deliver.
To rely on me and depend on me to make her dreams into realities.
“Come on,” I say, dropping my hand from her face and curling it around her back instead as I glance at my watch. We’ve been standing here in the doorway to her room for twenty minutes, and I only have twenty more minutes left before I have to leave to get back to work.
Guiding her across the landing, I push open my bedroom door and tug her inside.
Honestly, considering I’ve been here for over a year, my bedroom isn’t much more decorated than the room she’s been sleeping in.
It does have a closet, though, and a TV hung over the dresser that’s pushed against the wall.
“Climb in,” I say, pulling back my comforter.
“Warrick,” she starts, but I ignore her, lifting her off her feet and placing her down in the bed when she doesn’t get in herself.
“Let me find you a shirt,” I say, reluctantly stepping away from her to open my closet. Grabbing the first T-shirt I find, I bring it back out to her, keeping it in my hand as I sit down on the bed beside her. “Can I help?” I ask.
“Help?” she questions with so much fucking innocence in her eyes, I’m not sure I believe she ever worked in a fucking strip club.
Dropping the shirt to the comforter, I curl my fingers around the waist of her shorts and slowly tug them down. The denim slips over her hips too easily, cementing my certainty that she used to have curves that have melted away.
There isn’t a hint of embarrassment as I slip the shorts off her feet and drop them to the floor.
Reaching for her shirt next, I slowly tug it up and over her head, dropping it on top of the shorts.
Leaning around her, I unfasten her bra and slide it down her arms until she’s naked in only her panties and so unashamed that my dick is a steel fucking rod in my pants.
Stopping myself from touching or licking or sucking on any of her sexy skin, I drag my shirt over her head, holding it while she pushes her arms through the sleeves.
“That’s better,” I rasp, my voice rough and desperate.
“It’s better now you’ve put clothes on me?” she asks, a little of her ire from earlier slipping back into her tone.
“Fuck no, amore mio. But I can’t start touching you now, or I’ll never stop. I don’t hate seeing you in my clothes and knowing that the only thing you have on underneath is your wet panties.”
“They’re not wet,” she protests.
Happy for the opening, I push my hand between her thighs and cup her sex, feeling the heat and dampness seeping into my palm. “My pussy is feeling pretty hot and wet to me,” I whisper, not moving my hand as I lean forward and press my lips against hers.
The kiss is soft and sweet and so much shorter than I want, but I need to make sure that she gets what this is and what it’s not. “Stay here, amore mio. Let me go and grab your cell.”
Running downstairs, I snatch the cell off the counter, then grab a bottle of juice, a candy bar, the tub of blueberries, and a protein bar from the kitchen, cradling them in my arms as I climb the stairs two at a time, eager to get back to her as quickly as possible.
“Here, eat,” I say, opening the candy bar first and holding it to her lips.
“I’m not hungry,” she protests.
Growling, I shake my head. “I warned you, Verity. I’ll happily take your anger and fear, but I don’t want your lies. You’re hungry, and feeding you is one of the bare minimum ways I want to take care of you. So eat.”
Parting her lips, she takes a bite, but I see the reluctance in her eyes. Making her understand this is how it’s going to be between us is going to be an uphill battle, made harder by her misconceptions of the last couple of days. But that’s okay. I’m more than ready for the challenge.
As she chews, I pick up a blueberry and hold it to her lips. Once she’s swallowed the bite of candy bar, she parts her lips, and I place the blueberry on her tongue, watching her eat it while I open the juice I brought for her.
Instead of offering her the bottle, I bring it to my lips first and take a sip. It’s tart and sweet and cold. Placing the bottle to her mouth, her eyes stay on me as I tilt it, watching as it slowly fills her mouth. Lastly, I open the protein bar, breaking off a bit and feeding it to her.
It’s not enough, but I’m hoping that now that they’re all open and in here, she’ll eat them. “Our next breakfast in bed will be much more fun without the clothes,” I tell her, smiling as heat flashes in her eyes.
“I could decide I don’t want this,” she reminds me somberly.
“I know,” I whisper, “but I won’t plan for the worst. I’ll hope for the best, and the best will be me crawling into bed with you and you showing me how wet you’ve gotten while you’ve been waiting for me.
Maybe I’ll even let you tell me how you’ve played with my pussy while you waited for me to come and claim it.
I might even let you show me,” I tease, watching as the muscles in her thighs clench and tighten at my words.
Sighing, I glance at my watch. “I have to go back to work, amore mio.”
“Okay,” she says.
“Are you still angry with me?”
She shrugs. “A little, maybe.”
“Okay.” Plugging her cell into the charger, I pull up my name in her contacts and hit dial.
My cell rings, and I immediately answer, holding her cell out to her until she takes it.
“Get used to the weight of it. Because you’re going to be carrying it with you from now on.
As soon as I get into the car, my cell will connect with my hands-free, and then you can tell me all about how much I’ve pissed you off, and I’ll spend the drive back to base apologizing and reassuring you, and then hopefully by the time I get to work, you won’t be too angry at all. Okay?”
“This is stupid,” she whines.
“No, amore mio, it’s not. Now promise me.”
“Promise you what?” she questions.
“That you won’t leave me for the next forty-eight hours.”
“I promise.”
“Promise that you’ll eat all the food I bought for you.”
Rolling her eyes, she huffs. “I’ll eat.”
“Promise that you’ll sleep in my shirt and in this bed.”
“I—” she starts.
“Promise me.”
Exhaling, she nods. “I promise.”
Smiling to myself, I cup her cheek with my palm. “Promise that you’ll reply to my texts and answer my calls. Promise that when you question, or doubt, or get mad at me, that you’ll call or text me and tell me what I’ve done so I can apologize and figure out how to do better.”
“I—”
“Promise me.”
“I promise,” she whispers, staring right up into my eyes.
“Thank you, amore mio. Now one last thing, before I go.”
“What?” she asks.
“Promise me that when you touch your pretty little pussy, you do it here, in our bed while you think about how wet I’m going to make you the moment you give yourself to me.”
Her cheeks heat so quickly, I have to swallow back a laugh.
“Promise me,” I remind her, aware that I really, really need to leave.
“I promise,” she says so quietly I barely hear her.
“I’ll see you in forty-eight hours, amore mio.”
“Bye, Warrick.”
Unable to resist, I lean down and kiss her.
I know I should, but I’m incapable of being soft when I know this may be the last kiss I ever get from her.
Despite my confidence in her promises, I’m not stupid.
I might be certain that she’s destined to be mine, but there’s a very real chance that she’ll be gone by the time I get back in two days.
So if this is the last time I kiss her, I want it to be worth it, to be memorable.
So I kiss her like it’s the only chance I’ll get, like I want to mark her and claim her and destroy her with only a kiss. Then when I can’t wait another moment, I tear myself away from her and leave, lifting my cell to my ear the moment my feet hit the stairs.