Chapter 5 #2
“Maybe it was a bit high-handed of me to up and just purchase that business so that I could get you out of there, and purchase your apartment so I could get you out of there as well, but it came from a place of wanting to take care of you.
I don't think I made that point clear for you.
My heart and my wolf were telling me you're ours, and all we wanted to do was make you safe.
Make you comfortable. I'm impulsive; I'm sure you've already realized this about me.
I'm impulsive, so I did what I felt like I needed to in that moment to change the situation.”
I drop onto my bed, exhausted already from this conversation and from the situation in general. Really, from everything that's been going on lately. All of the changes are wearing down on me. Not to mention the attempt on my life.
“Did it not occur to you how heavily reliant I was on that job, and on my apartment? You could have asked me any number of things other than that what you did. I know that apartment must have been a joke to you, living in a house like this,” I say as I gesture around us, “but I made that home for myself.
I paid for that home with the money I made for myself.
“It didn't feel good to have you come in and disregard everything I built with a wave of your hand, essentially. You didn't put any thought at all into how I would feel having everything taken away from me without any sort of input.
“You didn't even have a damn conversation with me, Alex. You came in, and you took over. Can you see why the thought of mating you formally is terrifying for somebody like me, who has nothing to fall back on? I've never had anything to fall back on. You took away my safety net, and you forced me into a new place that was as unfamiliar to me as outer space. A hostile environment, where somebody I was supposed to work with not only didn’t like me, not only was jealous of our interactions, but actively tried to harm me. I know you had nothing to do with that, but clearly, she felt justified. You gave her some sort of feeling of protection that entitled her to do that.”
He's now sitting against the door, knees drawn up, his head hanging. I can see everything I'm saying wash over him, my words sinking in as he realizes how seriously he fucked up.
He looks up at me, eyes half-mast and sorrowful, nodding his head slightly.
“Morgan, I'm sorry. Truly. I acted irrationally and improperly.
I was raised better than that, I know better than that.
Seeing you that day for the first time, in that sort of situation, where there're all sorts of clientele, in a dirty place, on an unsafe street corner, I kind of lost my mind.
I couldn't think about anything other than getting you somewhere safer, somewhere closer to me.
“You're right, I should have spoken to you.
Unfortunately, I can't go back and change the circumstances.
But for what it's worth, I'd probably do it the exact same way again if I had to redo it, because I got you out of there as fast as possible. I know you hate me, but all I wanted was to give you safety and comfort.”
I mean, he's not backing down at all. Why is that attractive?
“It never crossed your mind to try and talk to me?
To ask me what I was doing after my shift and take me out for a meal?
Even if you didn't want to do that, you could have asked for my phone number, walked me home afterwards, literally anything other than leaving and making a bunch of phone calls, leaving me to find out my fate without you.
I humiliated myself trying to find a different job.
“And that's the other thing. Maybe you had good intentions, but offering me the job you did felt like a slap in the face.
Like all I was good for was what I could provide for you aesthetically.
You offered me a job that said you didn't value my brain, didn't value what I could add to your life, you only fortified thoughts I've had myself.
That I'm only worth what my body can do.”
He covers his face with his hands, and his shoulders start shaking.
Then, he surprises the hell out of me and starts sobbing.
He doesn't deserve my comfort because he put himself in this position; but maybe I could, I don't know, get closer to him or something?
Might feel less awkward to speak if we're not across the entire room from each other.
I cover up with some of my old, threadbare sleeping shorts and another baggy shirt before I do anything else, because they feel good on my skin and because it covers up what the world tells me is my best feature.
When I get out there, he's still in the same position.
He looks up at my bare feet walking across his hardwood floors, smiling a bit to himself.
“I've never wanted something real. I've never met somebody that I wanted like this.
.. I'm having a difficult time conveying what it is that's in my head to you. I keep messing up.”
I sit down across from him, cross my legs, and start gathering my hair to tie it up in a bun. “Yeah, well, no one’s ever wanted me before. It's... off-putting.”
“I guess we should just stop with the cleaning charade now. That was really dumb of me, wasn't it?”
“I mean, are there plenty of meet cutes where people go to work for somebody and end up falling for them?
Maybe I can see what you were thinking, but the fact that it was topless cleaning service, turning me into your maid?
Surely you see how that unbalances our power levels even more.
You came into this leagues above me and then kept me firmly under heel.
I can't develop feelings for somebody that has so much power over me.”
“You clearly have a wolf, but, and forgive me if this is insensitive, do half-breeds not feel the mating pull like the rest of us do? Because I feel like I'm losing my mind, and you always seem so cool, calm, and collected.”
“They might be slightly dulled compared to you, but I promise, I'm fighting my wolf every second of the day to keep my head above water.”
He looks around, taking in his house. “I guess this place is pretty ostentatious, isn't it?
Would you prefer something more modest? We can look at properties as soon as tomorrow.
Actually, let me back up. Will you live here with me?
Not as my housekeeper, but just to live here and keep me company?
To get to know you. I'll be much less of an ass if I know you're somewhere safe. I like feeding you, like seeing you in my space.”
There we go. It’s an honest offer, one that I would be dumb to turn down.
“Can I ask what you do for work? I admit that working here cleaning your house is not the best dynamic for us if we want to see what we could be, but if I want to feel fulfilled, I need a job.
I need a way to make my own income so that I know I have a safety net on the off chance I need it.
I haven't gotten this far on my own by not playing it safe.”
“How long have you been on your own?”
“About 13 or 14? Honestly, I don't really remember. My mom... she figured I was big enough at that point to take care of myself. Paid for my apartment for a couple of years, but I never really saw her. By the time I was 16, I dropped out of high school so that I could work full time to support myself. My rent stopped getting paid, and I was not about to end up on the streets. I figured having a roof over my head was more important than getting an education.”
He extends a hand toward me, inviting me to get closer. I don't know what that's like, to be held by somebody that's safe. Mom was never one for much affection, she was always so touched out by the time I got to spend any sort of time with her during the day.
I'm cautious as I crawl toward him, looking at the hand that’s big, strong, calloused, and warm.
When I'm close enough to him, I place my hand in his, and I let him pull me closer to his body.
Every nerve ending feels like a live wire, and he doesn't stop fussing with me until I'm seated comfortably between his legs, one of his legs bent over the mine, my shoulder leaning against his chest. Our faces are inches away, and it's intimate.
But strangely, it doesn't make me feel scared.
“Did you have any interest in getting your diploma or your GED?”
“It would probably help with the whole job thing if I was educated, wouldn't it? It's just never really felt like an option.”
“Do you want it to be? To answer your earlier question, I was fortunate enough to inherit a good amount of money, but I've kept it growing by investing in real estate, mainly. Flipping businesses, buying and selling property, that kind of thing. That's why it felt natural to me—”
“To buy out where I worked. That would have been helpful information earlier, I suppose.”
He takes a deep breath and cautiously tucks some of my hair behind my ear.
He lets his thumb linger on my cheekbone, and suddenly I'm dying to be kissed.
I want to know what it feels like to have someone's lips pressed against mine, for all this blood racing through my veins to have a goal to work toward. But he stays infuriatingly removed.
“In case I wasn't clear, the fact that you’re a half-breed means nothing to me. And I guess I need to learn better communication skills.” He looks at me thoughtfully for a minute, chewing the inside of his lip.
“If you could have any job, what would you want to do? What do you want to learn about? If there was no obstacle in your way, what kind of work would make your heart happy to do?”
“Nobody's ever asked me that before. I guess.
.. and I swear I'm not saying this because of what you just told me, I've always loved the idea of recreating spaces.
I've watched some of those home renovation shows when I was at the laundromat.
I think having skills like that, to know what colors go together and how to install cabinets, to be able to make a table or hang a light from the ceiling…
I obviously don't know anything about what goes into all that, but if I could pick anything to do, it would be that. I think it would be fun to take a space and make it nicer so somebody could have a good home.”
“Do you want to learn?”
“That feels like too much to ask of you.”
Without me realizing it, our faces have gotten closer together, and I can feel his heart beating so hard against his chest from where my shoulder rests against him.
I make a conscious decision to lean into him more, to give the weight of my body over to him.
He slowly wraps his arms around me, keeping his legs high on either side of me and I feel protected for the first time in maybe forever.
And when he brushes a kiss on my forehead?
It feels like maybe this is where I was meant to be all along.
“The goddess seems to think we belong together. What do you think about that? In comparison, offering to help you get an education seems minimal.”
It makes sense. It's the smart thing to do. I'm being offered an actual future, a possible career; would I really consider saying no because of some misplaced pride? Because I feel like I didn't personally deserve it or earn it? “You make a good point, sir.”
He groans a little at the honorific, and I know in the way he cradles my jaw, that he's getting ready to kiss me for real.
Books always make a first kiss seem like this giant thing, where time stops and things seem to rearrange themselves.
What I'm not expecting, when his larger-than-mine lips press against me, is for how right it feels.
How easy it is to press back against them, to move with them, intertwining my hand around the back of his neck to keep him fastened to me.
In no time at all he’s got my legs wrapped around his hips, and I can feel him hard and hot against my center, catching me by surprise.
I gasp and pull my face away from his, heart racing even harder.
He's got these incredibly rich brown eyes, fanned by eyelashes that a man like him will never appreciate.
He has a gentle face; I never noticed that before.
“That's going to happen if you're touching me at all. Don't worry about him if you're not ready.”
Does he expect sex from me if he's going to help me out? Is this like, a transactional thing? I almost start resigning myself to having to give it up to get what I need, and then I stop myself. I'm not giving him that power.
Instead, I stand and take a few steps back, wrapping my arms around myself. “I'm sure you're used to being with people much more experienced, but my whole life has effectively been turned inside out, and I've never even had a boyfriend before. This is... a lot to take in.”
He stands, stretching out his lower back by pressing his hips forward.
I avert my eyes, because if I don't, I know I’ll just ogle the bulge behind his zipper.
“Why don't you get some rest? Maybe you'll come join me for dinner in a little while?
I'll prepare it myself. I don't think I told you officially, but I filed charges against Rayna.
She won't be in my home again— our home. I hope.”
He leaves without waiting for an answer from me, which I kind of like.
I don't feel pressured to be agreeable, I can decompress and think in this bed he's given me to use.
And maybe close my eyes. I'll probably end up joining him for dinner, because it was another genuine offer, and I need to eat anyway.
Maybe we can start as friends and then go from there.