Page 8 of Exposed

A displeased god. “Logan.” This, in a deep, cold voice. “She made her choice.”

“Yeah. Doesn’t mean it was the right one, though.” Logan walks away then. Doesn’t turn back.

Something in me fractures.

“Why were you speaking to him, X? And what are you doing out here?” Your voice is low and calm. Too low, too calm.

“He was passing by. I ran into him.”

“What are you doing out here, X?” You repeat the question.

I find a seed of courage. “Am I not allowed outside, Caleb?”

Your eyes narrow. “Of course you are. You’re not a prisoner. I just worry for you. The streets are unsafe, and you’re prone to panic attacks.”

Prone to panic attacks. Yes. I am. But something about Logan soothes me. Makes me forget my panic. Makes it all okay.

I do not say this, of course.

“Sometimes I wonder if perhaps you don’t want me to really get over them, though,” I find myself saying. Unwisely. Foolishly. Courageously—the seed has germinated, perhaps. “I wonder if perhaps you just want me to stay up there in your tower, at your disposal.”

Your hand closes around my arm. “I’m not having this discussion with you out here.”

You pull me through the revolving door, back across the expansive marble lobby, and for some reason, I let you. I am outside myself, watching as I allow you to haul me into theprivate elevator, up and up and up back to the penthouse. Watching as you release my arm and pace in circles around me. You are, suddenly, a lion pacing in its cage, feral and furious, and I am a little lamb somehow stuck in the cage with the predator.

“I worry for you, X,” you repeat.

“I know you do.” I stand my ground, watch you pace. “Perhaps you don’t need to. Not as much.”

“Of course I do,” you insist. “Your understanding of the world beyond these walls is... limited.”

“And perhaps that is something I wish to rectify.”

“Why?” you ask. You cease pacing, stand inches from me, staring down at me, dark eyes icy with suspicion. “Why the sudden change?”

“It’s not sudden, Caleb—”

“It’s him, isn’t it?” This from you sounds almost... petulant.

Jealousy? It is unbecoming, Caleb. It does not suit you.

“It isn’t about Logan.” I pause, blink, thinking, and then take a breath to nudge the seedling of courage to grow a little stronger. “Or, not entirely.”

“What does that mean, X? ‘Not entirely’?”

I hesitate, seeking a neutral but true answer. “It means... the brief time I spent with Logan did make me curious about the outside world. It didn’t start with him, though, and it doesn’t end with him.” I try a placation. “You can’t keep me locked in here forever, Caleb. I am not a possession. I am woman. A person.”

“I’m just trying to protect you.” You are closer, your hard chest pressing against my breasts, your hands coming to rest on my hips.

“I know.”

“You may not be a possession, X,” you say, your voice a buzzing rumble, “but you aremine.”

This statement twists me up. Part of me knows it’s true, and likes it. And part of me hates it. Part of me knows as long as I am yours, I will never be my own.

My thoughts are smashed by your lips on mine, sudden and crushing. A little clumsy. Impulsive, even. Not with the usual mastery of your body over mine.

As you kiss me, I am struck by a question: how often do you kiss me?