Page 118 of Tied to You

My breathing shallows when glassy eyes meet mine in the mirror. She watches me, watching her, silently assessing me. I wish she’d say something. It’s like the oxygen has been stripped from the air around me. Each breath gets shorter and harder to consume. Every moment she doesn’t say something, anger and terror start clawing away under my skin. Anger because she isn’t behaving normally, and terror because after today, Mollie’s in deeper with the other half of my life than I ever could have imagined. It’s everything I didn’t want for her.

Fear begins crippling my sense. I begin imagining the ways I could force her to talk to me. I could pull her hair and march her to our room. Better yet, I could bend her over the vanity unit and fuck her like I did on my bike. It’s what a dog would do when he feels backed into a corner. He’d fight his way out. Ensure his survival. The only wayI’llsurvive is if the woman stood before me is with me. Needs me.

She turns, and it’s only when she slowly looks up do I realise, nothing I could do will take away the pain I made her feel tonight. God damn me. All the way to fucking hell.

Placing a hand on her nape, I pull her head to mine, resting my foreheadto hers. Her body relaxes when my thumb strokes her neck tenderly up and down. “I need you to talk to me, baby. I’m going out of my fucking mind.”

Still silent.

How long will this go on for? How much longer must she punish me for something that isn’t an issue. “The baby isn’t mine,” I tell her passionately. “You hear me?”

Still. Fucking. Silent.

Because of course, that isn’t the real issue. The real issue is that Mollie clearly wants something I don’t. Where that leaves us, our future, our life that we’re building together, I don’t know. But it will never change the way I feel about her.

Pulling my head back, I watch a single tear slip from her eye. It dances across her cheek, hitting her top lip. I swipe it with my thumb. “Please, say something.”

Mollie’s chest rises and falls. Her mind whirs, the cogs inside banging so fucking loud I can hear every single one. Then she takes a deep breath. “What do you want?” she asks, her voice shaking.

I study her, the softness of her voice mixed with the sadness behind her eyes is crippling. My hand lowers to the towel wrapped around her. Rather than releasing the knot, though, I press my palm flat to her chest. Her heart races in anticipation of my answer. What does she think I’m going to say? “Isn’t it obvious?”

Rolling her lips together, I know she’s trying not to let her emotions fully show.

My hand slides to her chin slowly. Angling her head back, I lower my mouth to her warm, still dampened skin. My lips softly kiss her collar bone, watching as she breaks out in pimples again. And again, I’m left wondering whether it’s in pleasure or pain.

Pleasure at my touch. Or pain from my words.

I kiss my way up, dropping another below her ear, her head angling further back when I gently glide my tongue over her lobe.

She grips the unit behind her, one leg slightly hitching to gain some balance.

I pause before doing it again, retracing my kisses from her ear back to the base of her neck.

Mollie’s breaths become shallow, her inability to ignore the pull towardme so fucking hard. My hands then take her head between them and I pull her towards me, dipping myself closer. Eyes wide open, I watch hers remain closed as our kiss deepens, not missing the small pools that begin gathering in the corners.

Fuck.

Heads tilting, I coax her lips into letting me in, licking and gently pushing past them with my tongue. I command her mouth, kissing her deeply, but making sure I remain slow, letting her know this isn’t about me claiming her. This is about me and her being in this moment together. I’m here. Right fucking here with her.

She never once touches me though. Never allows herself to get more of a fix. It’s fucking painful, but it’s her way of keeping guarded. She wants a truth I’ve already spoken to be erased. I just can’t deny how I feel. I can’t shake the fear that comes with the prospect of having my own children. That small broken part of me has never been an issue because we’ve only ever needed each other. When we found what we have, no one else mattered. The peace we sought without realising that’s what we needed, set us both free.

We haven’t needed anyone else. When she could have turned her back on me, she chose me. She chose us. I don’t think I could share her with anyone, not even a kid. And as fucking stupid as that sounds, it’s the very essence of why my parents left me.

They loved each other too God damn much that even a baby, their fuckingchild, couldn’t steer them away from each other. I never want to be like them. I never want to inflict the way I felt on a child. The harshest truth I’ve come to realise is that the feelings I have for Mollie, run deeper than anything my parents had.

I grip her cheeks harder, my emotions gripping and twisting my insides so vehemently, if I let them go, I fear I’ll never get a hold of them again. That’s what she does to me.

Her skin blushes, and my hands slide to her hips, love taking over.

I’m stopped from scooping her into my arms when a soft hand presses against my chest. She’s panting gently, her lips red, her eyes downcast. She wants me. She just needs more. “What do you want?” she asks me again, an unsure edge to her words.

Instinctively, I wrap my hand around her waist and pull her into me, herfront pressed to my chest. “The only thing I need. You, Mollie. I want you.”

She smiles, but it’s faded.

A great pain suddenly grips my heart. “Is that not enough?” I whisper, hoping my outer calmness is masking my inner turmoil.

The slow movement of her hand from my chest to the side of my face steals my breath. “For now.” Her thumb dusts my cheekbone.