Page 116 of Cruel When He Smiles

“You like hearing that, don’t you?” I ask.

His eyes flick toward mine, and his response is an automatic, “Shut up, Callahan,” but he doesn’t pull away.

His glare lacks heat, his expression too soft to sell the bite in his words. It’s all performance now. He doesn’t know how to admit it, doesn’t know what to do with it. But the way he breathes faster, his eyes dilate, and his skin flushes—it gives him away.

I grin, letting my hand trail lower, slowly dragging my knuckles down the line of his throat. “You’re not denying it, though,” I murmur, my voice softer now. “And you don’t understand how deep this runs.”

His throat bobs again, and he turns his head. “Liam—”

“No.” I draw my hand toward his chin, forcing his gaze to mine. “You belong to me, Nate. Not just when you’re under me. Not just when you’re letting me tear you apart in front of a gym mirror. Not just when you’re on your knees begging for more. You’ve been mine since the second I decided you were.”

Nate’s chest rises and falls in quick succession, and my fingers drift lower again, pressing gently against the base of his throat, just over the pulse I know is racing.

“It doesn’t matter how much you fight it, and it doesn’t matter how loud you get or how many times you tell yourself you hate me.You crave this.”

He shakes his head, but it’s weak. “I don’t—”

“You keep coming back, don’t you? You soak up every word I give you, even the fucked-up ones. You need this,” I whisper. “You need someone to see you, and break you, and rebuild you until you don’t have to carry the weight of your pain anymore.”

I press my thumb to his bottom lip, dragging slowly across the softness, watching the tremble start at his jaw and ripple down his chest. “You don’t even realize it yet, but I own you, and not just your body,” I continue, my eyes locked to his. “I own your mind, too. Every time you lie in bed, you think of me. Every time you see my name, your breath catches. Every time someone else touches you, you wonder if I’d be mad.”

He opens his mouth, shuts it, then opens it again—like he’s trying to argue, trying to claw back that last piece of control he hasn’t surrendered.

And then I say the words I know will end it.

“Tell me you love our fucked up.”

I watch the internal war play out across his face. His expression is caught between shame and need, before his voice comes out soft and so fucking compliant when he says, “I love it.”

I close my eyes, just for a second, and breathe him in. That honesty. That submission. That truth.

I lean forward until my mouth is beside his ear, letting my lips brush the skin there just enough to make him shiver. “Good boy,” I whisper, before pulling back and cupping his cheek, loving how he leans into it without even thinking. “You wanna know the best part?”

His hazy green eyes flick up to mine and he nods.

“You’re not the only one,” I smirk. “I belong to you, too.”

His breath catches, and I watch as that realization slowly sinks in. “W-what? What do you mean?”

I offer him a small smile as I run my thumb over his bottom lip again. “You think anyone else gets this version of me? You think that I’d lose my shit in the middle of a field because someone else got hurt? That I’d sit by someone’s bed, counting the seconds until they opened their eyes? Face it, Pup. You’re just as fucking obsessed with me as I am with you.”

His eyes darken, then light up, but not with defiance or even resistance. Not with that bratty little smirk he wears when he’s trying to push me too far just to see what I’ll do. No, this is different. This is pure fucking satisfaction hearing that he also owns me.

And fuck, I wasn’t expecting that. I thought he’d fight it. Thought he’d roll his eyes and pretend it wasn’t true, pretend that I wasn’t right, pretend that he wasn’t just as fucking obsessed with me as I am with him.

But no, he relishes it.

Before I can say anything else, before I can push further, before I can test just how deep this fucking addiction runs for him, his other hand lifts. It skims up my forearm, up to my elbow, and then he tugs me closer to bring my face level to his. “Mine, too.”

Fuck.

A low groan rumbles in my chest and he fucking grins. He must feel what he just did to me. I can only shake my head. “You’re gonna be in so much fucking trouble when you’re better, Pup.”

Nate’s grin just widens.

Liam

Islammybedroomdoor hard enough to shake the frame, and the crack echoes through the Sin Bin like a gunshot in a church.