Buttons & Hate (Buttons 2)
“Thank you for taking me here.”
I ran my fingers through her hair, feeling the soft strands glided past my fingertips. “Thank you for being a gorgeous woman.”
She looked up at me, her lips forming a small smile. “You think I’m gorgeous?”
That was an understatement. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” Maybe I didn’t think it right away, but I definitely thought it now. I was obsessed with all of her features, even the little freckle on her nose.
“Really?” Her smile fell away and a whisper of hesitance filled the night. She wanted to believe me but didn’t know if she could. It might be some cruel joke I was playing. Or maybe I was only saying it because she paid me to.
“We don’t lie to each other, remember?” I cupped her face and brushed my lips against hers.
She visibly melted under my touch, just as she always did when I laid a hand on her. Her hand wrapped around my wrist. “Are you saying that because you’re trying to be romantic?”
“I am romantic,” I whispered. “And no. I mean that.”
Her eyes softened when she finally accepted the compliment, no longer feeling self-conscious about my sincerity. “You’re the most handsome man I’ve ever laid eyes on.”
“Well, duh.” I grinned so she knew I was kidding.
She gave me a playful smack. “Did dark and brooding Crow really just make a joke?”
“Yes. Don’t get used to it.”
“Well, I really do think you’re the sexiest man in the world.” She ran her hand up my bare chest. “And I’m not just saying that because you made me come three times today.”
When she stroked my ego like that my obsession deepened. I loved giving her compliments as much as receiving them.
“When I saw you in that bar you gave me hope. I pictured you with some beautiful woman. You were the kind of man I wished I could be with instead of the cruel man, Bones. I even thought if I spotted you on the subway on my way to work I’d ask you out right on the spot.”
That intrigued me—down to my soul. “Yeah?”
She nodded. “No lies, remember.”
“It seemed like you hated me when we first met.”
“Well, you were being a dick.”
“Was not,” I said with a chuckle. “I was trying to save you.”
“So you could snatch me later.”
“Which was saving you. Come on, you have to admit being my slave is much better than being his.”
Her eyes narrowed, her playfulness gone. “I’m not your slave.”
“Just the other night you told you were mine.”
“I am yours,” she repeated. “But in a much different way. I’m yours because I’ve given myself to you. I’ve come to care for you. If something were to happen to you, I would be devastated. Don’t get that confused with being a slave. They’re very different. And if you ask me, what I’ve given to you is far more valuable.”
My fingers paused in her hair, wrapped around the strands. She just confessed something vital. I meant something to her. She didn’t despise me and want to fuck me. There was something else there. That night she cried for me because she cared.
But that wasn’t a good thing.
“You shouldn’t care about me. I’m not a good man and I never will be.”
“You’re wrong about that.”
I pulled my hand away. “You don’t know me well enough. You don’t know what I’m capable of.”
“You’re capable of a lot of things—to people who deserve it. You’ve been nothing but good to me.”
“Then why haven’t I let you go?” I challenged her with the question, knowing she would have no way of justifying it. “I keep you here against your will with indentured servitude. I make you fuck me until your debt is repaid.”
“You don’t make me do anything. I make my own decisions.”
“But I’m the one giving you a decision to make. Let’s not pretend I’m someone I’m not. Don’t develop anything for me. I’m not worth your heart.”
“You’re my friend.” Her voice carried her emotion. “Aren’t we friends?”
“I don’t have any friends.”
“You have me.” She ran her hand across my chest. “And I have you. Yes, I care about you. And I know you care about me.”
“I couldn’t care less what happens to you.”
She grabbed my chin and directed my look on her gaze. “Say that again.” The threat in her eyes was unmistakable. Despite her small size she was a formidable opponent. She was too smart for her own good and far too fearless. “Without lying.” Her fingers hugged my chin aggressively and she stared me down.
I clenched my jaw as I prepared to speak, wanting to tell her what I wanted to feel—not how I actually felt. But when she stared down at me with brutality I couldn’t defy her. I couldn’t break a promise I made to her—that I wouldn’t lie.