Page 69 of Misery

"Elfe—"

"No. I'm talking." I come around the bar, stop just out of reach. The distance between us crackles with tension. "It's been a week since we were together. A week of you keeping distance. Of being careful. Of treating me like a victim instead of a woman even when I’ve told you I don’t want to be treated like that."

"That's not?—"

"It is. You stop every time things get heated. You pull back like touching me might trigger some breakdown. You're so focused on protecting me that you're forgetting I'm a person with wants and needs."

"I know you're a person."

"Then treat me like one. Stop making decisions for me. Stop deciding what I'm ready for." I step closer, close enough to smell his cologne. Pine and leather and danger. "I want you. I've made that clear. So, what's really stopping you?"

He's quiet for a long moment. When he speaks, his voice is rough, scraped raw. "I don't want to hurt you."

"You won't."

"You don't know that. You don't know what I'm capable of."

"I know you killed two men for me. I know you held me through a panic attack. I know you made me come for the first time with someone else." I touch his chest, feel his heart racing under my palm. "I know enough."

"Elfe—"

"Take me home." It's not a request. "Take me to the house and stop treating me like glass."

The ride back is tense.

I press against him harder than necessary, hands lower on his stomach than strictly needed for holding on.

I feel his breathing change, his muscles tense.

Good. I'm tired of being the only one affected.

The night air is cool against my skin, but everywhere we touch burns.

His body is solid, warm, alive against mine.

I want to climb inside his skin, erase all the careful distance he's been maintaining.

The loft is dark when we arrive.

Emil and Saga must be asleep.

The dogs lift their heads when we enter but don't bark.

They're used to us now, to our patterns.

The moment we're in my room, door closed, I turn on him. "I'm done waiting for you to decide I'm ready."

"Elfe—"

I pull my shirt off and his objection dies.

The air between us charges, electric. "I'm done with careful. Done with distance. Done with you protecting me from something I want."

"You don't understand?—"

"Then explain it." I unhook my bra, let it fall. Watch his pupils blow wide, his hands clench at his sides. "Tell me why you won't touch me. Really tell me."

"Because you matter." The words rip out of him. "Because if I fuck this up, if I trigger something, if I hurt you, I'll never forgive myself."