33. Bossy
Bossy he said. Well maybe I am.
I tilt my chin up defiantly. "What are you going to do about it?"
His eyes darken slightly, and for a moment I think he might actually answer that question. Instead, he just watches me with an infuriating half-smile.
"You like giving orders," he observes.
"You like following them," I counter, surprised by my own boldness.
"Do I?"
"Sit down next to me," I say, testing my theory.
He raises an eyebrow but doesn't move. "Is that an order, Communicator?"
"Yes."
To my surprise, he actually does it. He settles onto the seat beside me, close enough that I can feel the warmth radiating from his body. There's something almost indulgent in the way he moves, like he's choosing to play along with whatever game I've started.
"Now what?" he asks, his voice low and amused.
Instead of answering, I reach up and cup his face in my hands. His expression shifts immediately, confusion replacing the playful challenge from moments before. His whole body goes still under my touch.
"What are you—"
"Just..." I apply gentle pressure, guiding him down, and I'm acutely aware that he could resist me easily if he wanted to. Instead, he lets me pull him forward, his eyes never leaving mine as he tries to figure out what I'm doing. "Trust me."
The moment I guide his head toward my lap, understanding flickers across his features. He could stop this, but instead he allows himself to be drawn down until his head comes to rest against my thighs.
The vulnerability of the position seems to hit him all at once, and I feel his muscles tense briefly before melting into complete relaxation.
He breathes, so quietly I almost miss it.
I thread my fingers through his hair, and his eyes drift closed. The harsh lines around his mouth soften, and for the first time since I've known him, he looks completely at peace.