Page 91 of The Bronze Garza

“Here,” he mumbles, shoving something into my hand. “Use my phone.”

Then he locks one of his muscular legs around both of mine, securing me.

I giggle. “I can’t write like this.”

With a heave of a sigh, he removes his leg and arm from around me. “Sit up then.”

When I sit up so my back is against the headboard, he takes one of the pillows and stuffs it behind my lower back. “Comfortable?”

A silly grin stretching my lips, I nod, asking, “Are you sure you won’t mind the light?”

He rests his pillow on my lap, and then his head. “Won’t mind.”

“What, are you worried I’m gonna leave or something?” I ask through a light laugh.

“Never,” he replies through a yawn. “Never letting you leave again.”

Something blooms and blossoms in my chest, a soothing warmth flooding me.

I want him. I want him. I want him.

He’s mine. He’s mine. He’s mine.

If I say it enough times, it might just become reality.

On his phone, I open the Notes application and write until dawn breaks.

When all the words have emptied out and my fingers feel like jello, I set the phone aside and, with a yawn, slide right back into the safe cocoon that is Torin Garza.

~

When I wakeup again, I’m alone. Still, I can feel him.Smellhim all over me.

With a blissful smile, I roll out of bed, freshen up in the bathroom, then head downstairs. I’m almost sad to see my bags and laptop in the living room. I want to keep wearing his clothes, using his things. Couldn’t Monica have been just a bit angrier at me and set them on fire?

I’m calm and well-rested enough this morning that I don’t need yoga, so I head straight to the kitchen and blend up a smoothie. With no phone to read on, I grab one of the three cookbooks from the kitchen counter, then climb onto the island and idly flip through it while I sip my smoothie. Pretty sure these books are for decor purposes only, because I’ve never seen him open one of them. Plus I’m 99.9% sure he’ll never eat any of the recipes in here. I’ve seen that man cook, and he’s a spices, flavor, and color kind of eater.

When Torin emerges from his office sometime later, sweaty and mouthwateringly sexy from his workout, I brace for him to growl at me for sitting on the kitchen island.

His eyes narrow on me as if he intends to, but then he just shakes his head with a shadow of a smile and goes straight to the pantry for his protein powder. I’m kind of bummed. Him growling at me used to be part of my morning ritual when I was here. It’s like foreplay to me. Ugh. He better not stop being annoyed by me.

As he pours oat milk into his shaker bottle, he tells me, “Reuben brought your things. Picked you up a new phone. I’ve set it up for you.”

I close the cookbook. “Did you put a tracker on it?”

He scoops in protein powder next. “Not without your permission.”

“Put a tracker on it,” I tell him. “Just in case.”

Eyes on me, he covers the bottle and starts shaking. “Okay.”

I want you to own me. I want to be your possession.

“Does Daddy know?” I ask, adding, “About yesterday.”

“Yup.”

“Narc,” I mutter.