Page 67 of Full Out Fiend
“Are you listening?”
Nope. I most certainly am not. I give him a sheepish smile. “Sorry. I’m tired. I’ll probably just go to bed early tonight since I have to work in the morning.”
He considers me through narrowed eyes, shifting his weight from foot to foot before resolve settles in his expression. “I won’t stay out late. I’ll pop in to tell you good night when I get home.”
His reassurance is anything but. I already know he’ll peek into my room and tell me he’s home when he gets back. He does it any time he has to stay late on campus, and he did it the one time he went to a John Hughes double feature at the drive-in with a few of his buddies.
The idea of him coming home to check on me when he could be hooking up with someone else instead leaves an acrid taste on my tongue.
I hop off the barstool and clear my plate without replying. He hasn’t said or done a damn thing to make me feel this way, and yet I’m literally on the verge of tears.
I’m rinsing the red sauce off my plate when he sidles up behind me.
“Are you okay, angel?” he whispers, brushing my hair to one side so he can speak directly into my ear. His hands reach past my hips, resting on each side of the sink, effectively caging me in.
I shiver at his proximity while simultaneously craving more contact. A few inches forward for him—or a slight lean back for me…
I’m desperate for our bodies to connect. To be held. To melt into his frame and let him have his way with me.
But that desperation is no match for the galvanized armor encasing my still-raw, tender heart.
So instead of leaning into him, I shift forward, pressing my belly into the edge of the quartz countertop because there’s nowhere else for it to go.
“I can stay at Serena’s for the night,” I offer. Thankfully, my voice comes out soft but callous—I refuse to let him hear how affected I am right now.
Fielding staggers back as if I’ve burned him. He gently grasps my shoulder, turning me in place, then stares down at me with an assessing glare that’s borderline angry.
“I just—I didn’t want to make things awkward if you wanted to bring someone home,” I stammer, crossing my arms under my chest in hopes of conjuring up a confidence I don’t feel.
He glowers at me, then shakes his head. “I’m not interested in bringing anyone home. I wouldneverdo that to you while you’re staying here.”
“What’s that supposed to mean? We’re not together, Fielding.”
I thought he was glaring before, but his lagoon-blue eyes harden in a way I’ve never seen in response to my question. He’s silent for several seconds, standing still as stone, before he finally spits out a reply.
“Well, I’m not available.”
It’s what I want to hear. It’s everything I secretly wish for when I let myself dream beyond the limitations I’ve placed on our situation. Yet it seems too good to be true, and I refuse to be made into a fool. Again.
“Because of me?” I demand. “Because ofthis?” I wave one hand up and down my body for emphasis. “I don’t want your loyalty,” I assert, my tone intentionally harsh to mask the vulnerability coursing through my veins.
His glower turns into a full-out scowl, and that little wrinkle between his eyebrows appears, signaling that he’s working overtime to figure out how to play this.
“Too bad,” he finally declares, shrugging. “You already have it. While you’re living here—while you’re carryingmychild—you have me. Completely. Exclusively.”
It’s everything I want. Why can’t I just let myself trust this moment?
Motivated by self-defense and fear, I can’t stop the words that tumble out of my mouth.
“And let me guess. I’m expected to not hook up with anyone else either?”
If looks couldkill.
I’ve never once felt threatened by or scared of Fielding. Until this moment, when his eyes darken and his nostrils flare, I hadn’t fully appreciated the intensity of this man.
His chest rises and falls at a rapid pace, and he runs his hands through his hair over and over again as he lets out long, controlled exhales. Finally, when it seems like he’s settled back into himself, he speaks.
“I would never tell you what to do or ask that of you, considering we’re not in a relationship. It’s your body.”