The Way She Burns

“You want my big cock again, little girl?” I growl against her ear, already grappling with my zipper. “The ocean couldn’t get you off, but Daddy knows just how, isn’t that right?”

“Yes,” she whimpers, as if confessing a grave sin.

“Did I accidentally put you through puberty too soon, Chloe? Did you run back to your mommy that day five years ago with a confused pussy?”

“Uh-huh.”

So hot to fuck, I can barely draw breath, I hike up her dress, preparing to enter her in one smooth move. Before I can slide back into that tight heaven, though, a voice drifts through the door. “Chloe?” And then more distressed. “Chloe? Where are you? Where am I?”

Her body tightens with a different, non-sexual kind of tension. “I have to go to him. I can’t…” She drops her legs from around my waist, pushing trembling fingers through her hair. “I can’t do this. I can’t get l-lost in you. I can’t let the wild inside of me win.”

Oh yes you can. And you will.

That’s what I want to say. But I can see her body scares her. I scare her, in a way—the attraction between us goes beyond intense. It’s an inferno. If this belief she holds about herself being wicked runs deep, she’s not going to let go of it so easily. Can I be patient and help her realize that?

Yes. I’d do anything for her. Anything.

Looking down at her in the moonlight, the obsession that has developed since she arrived on my doorstep elevates itself. Worms its way into my brain and my heart and my gut, never to be eradicated. Mine. Chloe is mine and that’s the final fucking say on the matter.

If I can just rein my reaction to her in a little, maybe I won’t terrify her.

Maybe she’ll stay voluntarily, instead of being roped to my bed.

“Stay here,” I rasp. “Give me a chance to prove I’m not just something to get lost in, but a place to be found and protected.”

She chews her lip in indecision. “I-I don’t think so—”

“Today we’ll collect your things from town,” I press on, scared to be denied. To lose her when I’ve only just discovered her again. “I’ll bring you to whatever restaurant you choose. Buy you and Curtis whatever you need. This will be your home.”

A beat passes. “While I look for a new one,” she murmurs.

“Yes,” I lie.

Again, the child calls for his sister from inside the bedroom.

Before Chloe enters, she pauses with her hand on the knob. “Okay, Sebastian. We’ll stay.”

When the door closes behind her, I slump forward, catching myself on the doorframe, mouthing grateful prayers to a God I haven’t spoken to in a long time. And when I’m done, I make a vow to myself. I vow to do everything in my power to make Chloe happy.

I vow to keep her. Forever.

Obviously there are hurdles that need to be jumped first, in the form of Chloe’s misconceptions about herself. In order to do that, I’ll need to reach down into myself and pull out the man I used to be. A man without hate in his heart. An unjaded man.

A man capable of love.

Glancing back toward the bedroom door and hearing Chloe’s voice in the form of a lullaby, I realize that, Jesus, I’m already there. I love the girl.

She inspires worship in my blood.

Obsession in the roots of my stomach.

But can I change enough to make her love me back?

5

Chloe

I hold Curtis’s hand in mine and guide him out of the bedroom, walking toward the sound of men’s voices. Funny, I’m usually avoiding that exact thing. But we’re not in our little apartment beside the tavern this morning. We’re in Sebastian Spears’ home—and apparently this is where we’ll be staying for the next while.

Against my better judgment.

My lips are still tingling from his kiss, my skin burning where his hands touched me.

I’ve always thought—or hoped, at least—that I’m a smart girl. It takes a clever person to survive alone in Harding without any protection. But I’m beginning to wonder if kisses from this man have gummed up the inner workings of my brain. Every time I try and remind myself of what happens when I give in to the selfish wants of my body, I forget all of my reservations.

“Big,” Curtis says, awe-struck, looking up at the vaulted ceilings. “Big house.”

“Yes,” I agree, squeezing his little hand. “It’s a huge house.”

“Who lives in it?” asks my brother, brows raised quizzically.

A complicated man with very persuasive lips.

“A man named Sebastian. I’m going to introduce you to him now.” As I finish saying those words, we stop in front of a doorway that leads to some kind of study. Or perhaps a library. Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves line the wall on one side, a covered window douses the outside sunlight, painting the room in muted green. Elaborate golden frames hold paintings that look like they belong in a museum, depicting harrowing scenes from the Bible or ancient battles. In the middle of it all stands Sebastian and Dobbs, the man who comes to town to pick up supplies and handle Sebastian’s business matters.