Page 58 of Little Liar

“Your heart is beating so fast all of a sudden,” Olivia whispers, placing a gentle kiss on my naked chest. “Go back to sleep. It’s early.”

I half-smile and continue brushing my fingers through her freshly dyed hair. She did it to get rid of the blonde she was forced to have. There are still golden waves throughout since she trusted me to get the back, and, shockingly, I don’t know how to use fucking hair dye.

I want to call her bossy, but when I feel overwhelmed, I fall over my words. I’m still learning, and since we’ve been in bed for nearly a week, I haven’t gone to any of my appointments, despite her arguing with me to do so.

We’ve barely gotten out of bed except to shower, dispose of the million condoms my sister made me wear, or to eat. She even stood in front of me and made me take my meds then kissed me as if she hadn’t done so for years. And there was that random hour she wanted to chase me in the woods yesterday, so I let her.

I even pretended to fight her off as she sucked my cock and bounced all over me.

She’s been stuck to my side, and I don’t hate the invasion. I love having her here, with me, in our bed, in our house.

Our life.

We’re so fucking close to having it all—but there’s something stopping us from getting there. There’s a weight, so fucking heavy, on my chest, and it’s not Olivia’s head as she falls back to sleep.

She’s worried about me. She woke up last night and found me talking and signing to myself in the middle of the bedroom. It took her ten minutes to get me back into bed by trying to prove she was real.

I don’t really remember. It was like an out-of-body experience—I’ve had it a few times. When I was in prison, when I watched Olivia, and a few times this past week.

Watching her relaxed face, I tuck a lock of hair behind her ear, wondering how she’s going to put up with me. I’m a handful, heavy baggage she would be better off without, but the selfish part of me wants her to take it all on with me.

I don’t go back to sleep either. I can’t. My mind is against me today. Sometimes I can block it out, and other times, I struggle and it’s an effort to even drag air into my lungs without needing to make sure I know where Olivia is at all times.

When she wakes again, she blinks her pretty little eyes and watches me. Her fingers trace my jawline, and I press my cheek into her palm, as if I’ve not been attached to her almost constantly since she chose me.

“Can we talk about us yet?” she asks timidly. Her voice is a little shaky.

She’s been asking nearly every day for us to have “the talk” and I’m completely against the pointlessness of it.

Against everything within me telling her to drop it and just go with the flow, I nod once.

“What are we doing?”

I wrap my arms around her, hugging her to my side. Isn’t it obvious what we’re doing? We’re cuddling in bed. But apparently that doesn’t mean shit to her given the way she’s looking at me.

“You were released from prison after eight years and then you stalked and kidnapped me. You tortured me, and then you let me go. I only came back a week ago. I feel like we need to really talk about what our plan is.”

My nostrils flare, my jaw tensing as her fingers trace my skin.

Fine,I sign.But I don’t see the point in discussing it. You’re mine now, and there’s nothing anyone can do to take you away from me. I’d need to be dead, and I’d still haunt your ass and fuck you.

“I’m serious,” she says with a sigh.

So am I.

“Can we take baby steps with everything?”

No.

Her chest rises and falls on another sigh. “Malachi.”

The way she says my name has me gulping.

Her nose wrinkles as she sits up, straddling me. “I’m going to suggest something.” Her fingers splay over my chest, over my instantly sore heart. “You aren’t allowed to get mad.”

Which means I’m going to lose my shit, but I grit my teeth and take a deep breath.

What?