Clearing his throat, he takes a deep breath. “Nobody hurts you. Nobody fucks with you and gets away with it on my watch.”
“What?” I exhale in more confused and excited horror. My heart so conflicted it doesn’t know if it wants to race or stop beating completely.
Did I hear that right?
Reaching up, he grabs my face again and rubs his thumb tenderly along my bottom lip, his expression unchanging. “You’re mine and I’ll always protect you.”
My mind whirls, trying to process all this new information. Trying to process how I feel about it.
I’m his? Like an object he’s owns or possesses?
He’s going to protect me?
Since when?
Then he kisses me.
Kisses me like a man who’s both proving a point and utterly desperate.
When he finally pulls away from me, tearing his lips from mine like it pains him to do so, I can only gape at him.
I knew he was crazy…
But this…
This.
Oh my god, what am I going to do about this?
What am I going to do about the tiny dark part of me that’s soaring at his declarations? Practically reveling in them?
“You’re mine, Sophia,” he repeats like now that he’s said it he can’t stop saying it. Then he tenderly brushes a curl out of my face and tucks it behind my ear. “You’ve been mine since the night we met, and I’ll always take care of you.”
I don’t know what to do.
I don’t know what the fuck just happened.
How did me confronting him about my father’s death turn into him giving me a declaration of ownership?
It’s like I’ve suddenly slipped into an alternate reality or a fucked-up dimension.
The tightness of his arm still wrapped around me though is proof I’m still right here.
It’s truly happening.
It’s real.
James stares at me as if he expects me to contradict him. His expression and the set of his shoulders prepared for it.
I try to work up the will, the energy to fight him on this. To tell him no way, no how, I’m his anything.
But I just don’t have the energy for it. I don’t have the energy to argue with him over this. I don’t have the energy to deal with this, on top of all the other shit that’s already overflowing off my plate.
And god only knows what else he might admit if I address it.
When I only stare up at him wearily, his expression gradually softens.
“Sophia?” he asks, staring into my eyes, still expecting something from me.
Gratitude? A fight?
Simple acknowledgement?
I don’t know what he expects.
All I know is that, “I’m tired.”
So fucking tired of it all.
I need to get off this ride before it crashes and burns with me stuck inside it.
His next words are said carefully, as if he’s worried I might suddenly break and fall to pieces. “Do you want to go bed?”
I press my lips together, swallow, and nod my head.
I’m not only tired, I’m disturbed as fuck, and wish to heaven I never asked the questions I asked. I’m only more confused now and fucked up in the head.
And the longer I stand here in his arms, the harder it is to resist the temptation to accept and believe that I truly am his.
His craziness must be contagious.
As if he can’t stop himself, James brushes another kiss against my hair and tucks another curl behind my ear. “Let’s go to bed then.”
Numbly, I nod my head again.
I need space. I need time to think about all of this.
I need to figure out a fucking escape plan.
Reaching around me, James yanks the covers back then nudges me to get in, finally releasing his hold on me.
My butt drops to the mattress, my body automatically following his suggestion.
Once I lean back and lay down, I grab the blanket and pull it over me, burrowing under it for protection.
Watching me with a scowl, James reaches down and finishes undoing his pants, letting them fall to the floor.
As soon as I catch a glimpse of his half-erect cock, I roll over and bury my head under the pillow.
The light clicks off a second later.
Then I feel him nudging at my back. “Scoot over.”
“What?” I gasp.
Not asking a second time, he lifts the cover and forces me to physically move as he squeezes in beside me.
Realizing what he’s planning to do, I try to escape to the other side of the bed.
But his heavy arm just drapes over me and pulls me back. Nestling my body up against his.
Tucking his chin over my head, he wiggles and maneuvers me until he’s spooned around me. My back against his chest, his cock against my ass.
Squirming uncomfortably, I try to move away, only to be pulled right back.
His arm locks like a restraining bar across my breasts and he pushes his hips forward.
“If you aren’t tired…” he says ominously in the dark.
Oh god, no. We’re not doing that again.