Page 105 of Only With You

I take a step forward. “I know you’re mad, but I don’t know why.”

It’s sick, but I thrive on her attitude, but only when I know what I did.

“It’s nothing. It doesn’t matter just like whatever this”—she points at her chest than at mine—“was. It’s not going to work out.”

“Why not?” I take a step closer, and maybe I’m pushing my luck, but I reach my hand out, letting my knuckle graze her arm.

“You can’t be serious?” She’s fuming and that should stop me from smirking, but I can’t help it. Despite the anger that emanates from her, she must not be that mad if she’s letting me touch her.

“I am. I can’t understand you if you don’t communicate with me. Instead, you’re sulking like a child and I don’t know what I did. At least tell me what I did and then I’ll consider whether I need to fix it or not.”

Anger brims in her eyes. “I don’t share. I told you that, but I don’t want you to stop doing what you’re doing for me.”

It all makes sense now.

“The girl you saw me talking to is Leah. She’s the one who made your mug. I was thanking her for it,” I explain, but I don’t go into detail, because she’ll know about the other one.

She stares at me a little perplexed, but then her expression turns stern. “Right, that’s why she was touching you.”

“Did you see her slapping my arm?”

“What?”

“Leah’s a touch and slap kind of person when she laughs and wants your attention. But shall we discuss how Finnick was all over you, touching you?” I grind my molars.

“It’s not like that,” she quickly supplies.

“Well, it wasn’t like that either.”

We stare at each other for a beat too long. The anger, the bitterness, and the tension pulse in the air, wrapping around us like a live wire.

“Did you read it?’”

She nods.

I lift a brow. “And?”

“And…yes.” She throws her wavy hair over her shoulder like she’s nervous. “I want that, but?—”

“This is whateveryouwant it to entail.Youset the boundaries.” I level my gaze with hers, hoping she understands and feels how serious I am. “I need you to communicate with me what you want. What you need.” I step closer until she’s forcing her head back more to look at me, while I drag the pads of my fingers along her arm. “Whatever it is, whatever you want,whatever you like, you got it, okay? And if something bothers you, makes you uncomfortable, or doesn’t sit right with you,”—I grip her chin, lowering my head and thank God she’s wearing heels—“you tell me. You talk to me. This can’t work if you don’t do that. Do you understand?”

She inhales sharply. “Yeah, I understand, but what about you?”

“What about me?” My body burns when her nails graze my arm.

“Any hard limits? Boundaries?”

I don’t think about it because I know.

“Anyone touching you.” I pause as another thought comes to mind. “You wearing other guys’ clothes. Just don’t. At least, not whilst we’re doing this.”

That pulls a smug smile on her face. “Careful there, you sound a little jealous and possessive. You’ll make me believe youlikeme.”

“Well, I don’t hate you.” I don’t clarify what I mean, because I haven’t clarified it to myself yet.

Her lips pop open and then close.

I drop my hand from her chin and grab her waist. “Did I make myself clear or do I need to explain what I want?”

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