He didn’t give a damn about anyone or anything, but he always made sure I got my fix before he had his. He made sure my toes curled until they cramped, made sure my body tightened around him so hard it must have hurt. He gave me every reason to draw blood with my nails, as if he liked the pain.
He finished, his hard eyes on mine, his handsome face slightly flushed with arousal. The tense muscles started to relax, and he withdrew and cleaned off. His heavy body returned to the mattress beside me, one arm behind his head, his eyes turned toward the curtain-covered window where it continued to pour.
I rolled onto my side, so relaxed that I never wanted this moment to end. The stress was gone from the very insides of my muscles, from the lining of all my organs, from every place where it was tucked.
It was as if Hell had never happened.
He grabbed his phone from the nightstand and scrolled through his messages before he hit the button and returned the screen to darkness. He was bare-chested with the sheets around his waist, his hard body concrete with lines carved by the edge of a knife. He lay there, his eyes on the ceiling. “I assumed the rain would be gone by now.”
“We’ll get the tree tomorrow. I can do your shopping for you if you give me a list of what you want.”
“She’s hard to shop for—because I buy her whatever she wants.”
“I noticed.” I gave a smile as I pulled the sheets farther up my shoulder. “Never seen a little girl with so many stuffed ponies…and real ponies.”
His eyes turned to the window. “Before she was born, I told myself I wouldn’t spoil her. I would discipline her. I wouldn’t let her believe in princesses and Prince Charming and all that bullshit that doesn’t exist.”
“I believe in those things…”
“How?” His head turned to me, his eyes hard. “You’ve seen the real world. The nightmares. The monsters. The evil.”
“Well, Claire feels like a real princess to me.”
His hard eyes instantly released.
“And you’re her Prince Charming who came to save her.”
He looked at the ceiling again.
“So yes, I still believe in that stuff.”
He had closed off entirely, invisible walls all around his mind and body.
“Are your parents still around?” I asked.
“No.”
“I’m sorry.”
His open eyes stared, focused on the ceiling like it was more than just a simple wall.
“How was your night last night?”
“You already asked me that.”
“I thought you were just too tired to answer.”
“No.”
“I’m not trying to pry—”
“I don’t do pillow talk, alright?” He propped himself up on his elbow as he rolled over and looked down at me, his gaze fierce. “You want to fuck me to make yourself feel better? That’s fine with me. But I’m not doing all the other shit that comes along with it. Got it?”
I stilled at the outburst, the calm haze shattered.
He threw the sheets off then sat upright, his legs over the edge, his strong back to me. He inhaled a slow and deep breath, his eyes on the window hidden behind the closed curtains. A nearly empty glass with a drop of scotch was on his nightstand, along with a gun that he had pulled out of the back of his jeans when he stepped inside.
“It’s not pillow talk, Benton.” I sat up, my body against the headboard, my naked skin cold the moment he was gone. “It’s called friendship…but you obviously don’t know what that is.”
Two
Benton
“Dad, I like this one.” The horrid rain had finally come to an end, but the streets and pavement still reflected the lampposts like mirrors. Claire’s pink rain boots hit a puddle, and she splashed right through on the way to the tree that caught her eye.
I looked it up and down, its short stature, its dying branches that were turning brown and bald at the ends. It was offered at half the price—which was still too expensive for this piece of shit.
Constance walked over, in a gray pea coat with a gold necklace, her arms folded over her chest, black gloves on her fingers. She looked at Claire and gave a slight chuckle. “It’s…nice.”
It was a dead tree with a price tag. “Pick another one, Claire.”
“But I want this one—”
“No.” I flashed my stare on her, telling her not to argue with me in a public setting. I’d rarely had to spank her as a child, and it only happened a few times for the obedience to settle in. She was too old for that now, but time-outs were still on the table.
She kicked a rock before she moved to the next tree.
Constance watched her go before she turned her stare on me. Green eyes full of intelligence speared me. She never regarded me with a look of longing like the others, like she wanted to sink her claws into my flesh and attach me to her permanently. It was a different look entirely. Couldn’t explain it.