Page 146 of Wicked Little Darling

“I’m okay,” I said.

“Can you just…can you not lock the door? Please?”

His soft request made my chest ache, and with a trembling hand, I reached out and twisted the door knob until the lock popped open.

I expected him to come barreling into the room, but the door stayed shut. Disappointment snaked through me, and then I remembered I was supposed to be mad at him, that he’d said horrible things to me and why wasn’t that the first thing that had surfaced into my mind today? Why was I only remembering now?

But no, he hadn’t said those things, I didn’t believe that. Not for a second. The person on the other side of that door was notthe same person who had sent me those texts, and I knew that in my soul.

I jerked the door open, prepared to ask him about last night, but when I saw him standing there with his hands resting on the molding above us, those dark eyes boring into mine with a concern I knew was genuine, I couldn’t think of a single thing to say.

“Hey,” he said softly. “How you feeling?”

“Like crap.” I lowered my gaze and tried to move past him, but he kept blocking the door. When I looked up at him again, raising my brows in question, he leaned in close and kissed my cheek.

“Want me to bring you something to eat? Something greasy and loaded with carbs?”

I raised my hand and pressed my fingers to the cheek he’d just kissed—right over my birthmark—and stared up at him in stunned silence.

“I’m okay.” My voice was a rasp, and I hated that my throat was getting thick.

His brows scrunched together. “Are you? Do you remember what we talked about last night?”

Fuck. What had we talked about? What had I said to him?

“No, I don’t remember anything. Can you please move? I wanna go back to bed.”

He shook his head. “Nope. We’re gonna talk about what happened.”

All I wanted to do was wrap my arms around him and sob into his chest, to feel him and know he was real, that he was really here, that he’d come back.

He was paler than usual, his freckles standing out more, and there were dark circles under his eyes.

Eyes that were shining with a restrained anger and resolve that sparked a maelstrom of panic in my system. There was astorm brewing in those eyes, and nowhere for me to take shelter from it.

I didn’t even want to.

I wanted him to hit me full blast with everything he had. Wanted him to decimate me with the force of his feelings.

If they were his, I didn’t care how much they destroyed me—I’d take everything he wanted to throw at me.

The only time I’d ever really seen Dakota get angry was when something bad happened to me, when I’d been careless with my own well-being.

And that…

A warmth started spreading across my chest, seeping into my skin and burning through my entire body.

It was because he cared. He truly cared about me, and there was no denying that. There was no pretending it wasn’t true. The evidence was right there, in his eyes, his voice, his face. In everything he did and said.

Dakota was the most transparent person I’d ever met, and I never knew I needed that as much as I did.

“Tell me what you remember from last night, and I’ll fill in the blanks for you.”

The hardness in his tone made me want to fall into his arms and meld myself against him. That way he could never be free of me; I’d always have him right there. He’d be forced to keep caring about me, forced to keep holding onto me, forced to keep me—period.

“Can we not do it in the bathroom?” I asked.

His lips twitched, and I wanted to kiss them.