This sick, numbing feeling spreads over every inch of me the second I’m consciously aware and not drifting down a memory I wish I could hide in.
Letting out a deep sigh, I push the glass away from me and wrap the woven blanket tighter around my shoulders as I get off the barstool at the kitchen island.
I finally ate today, but the food’s tasteless and I can barely stomach a thing. Not when I feel like this.
Addison left half an hour ago, and I asked Eli to tell the guys to leave me alone tonight. Part of me regrets it. I’d like to pretend I could go downstairs and join them for a drink. Lord knows I need more than just one glass of Cabernet. I need a distraction and something that doesn’t feel like my world is falling apart and collapsing on top of me, but that’s all I have to accompany me tonight.
My bare feet pad softly on the hardwood floor as I make my way down the hall to the bedroom. All I keep thinking about is the phone on the nightstand. It only allows me to call Carter, or for Carter to call me. There’s not even a number in the settings for me to give someone else.
I hate that he limits me like this, but I understand the need for him to control it right now. Because if I could, I’d call my father. I’d tell him I’m sorry I left and was stupidly taken. I’d tell him I’m okay. I’d beg him to stop all this.
And I’d be judged, found lacking, and a failure. I already know it, but I would still try.
Just the thought of it makes me pause outside the bedroom door, my hand on the carved glass knob as a shuddering breath leaves me. I hate this feeling of hopelessness that numbs my skin. I hate this feeling of being confined and pushed to the side.
I hate everything.
When the door creaks open, my feet sink into the plush carpet and I try to flick the light on, but it doesn’t work.
My stomach drops even lower and I try it again, hearing the click but not seeing a change. It doesn’t stop me from furiously flicking the switch back and forth rapidly.
“I didn’t want any light tonight.” Carter’s voice paralyzes my body. It’s a slow drip, like the venom from a snake bite. That’s how my body reacts to his deep, rough tone.
It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust, but when they do, I see his broad shoulders from the corner of the room, sitting on a chair that wasn’t there this morning.
“Carter,” I say his name and then glance at the mess of sheets on the bed, and he follows my gaze to where I was hours ago, pleasuring myself as he ordered me to. “I didn’t expect you to be here,” I tell him softly and make my way toward him.
It amazes me how drawn I am to him. As if nothing matters but going to him.
Maybe Nikolai was right. Maybe I am sick. Because all that nervousness and anxiety doesn’t exist anymore.
“I missed you,” he tells me, and it sounds so unlike the man I knew while I was in the cell, and the man who rules with an iron fist but it’s my Carter, the man who gives me everything behind closed doors. Flutters in the pit of my stomach travel up higher and lower at the same time, warming every inch of me.
“I need you,” I whisper as I reach him, not hesitating to climb into his lap and wrap my legs around his waist. His large hands splay along my lower back and ass. He squeezes just as my lips brush against his and instead of kissing him like I intended, my neck arches back and I moan from the pain.
From the pain.
It’s all he gives me at this moment, but sitting like this, being with him and feeling his heat is exactly what I need right now. The pain alone sends ripples of pleasure through my body.
He lowers his lips to the dip in my throat, letting his stubble drag along my skin as he plants open-mouth kisses right there and then trails up my neck.
He nips my earlobe before whispering in a way that creates a shiver down my spine, “I want you on the bed.”
I take a kiss from him first. Stealing it quickly, I love that I catch him off guard and he nearly misses the chance to kiss me back.
He takes it though and then sits back as I leave his lap and lie on the bed.
“Strip,” he commands, and I obey. I do it slowly, letting my fingers linger over my sensitized skin and reveling in the power I have. He wants me. He loves wanting me. And it’s a heady feeling to have such a powerful man give in to the need of wanting you.