Page 43 of Kristoff

“No! I mean why did you find me? Why not just leave me alone?” she demands. Months ago, I wouldn’t have allowed the tone, but this is different. I’m not on home ground here.

“You’ve never been alone,” I admit. “I’ve known every move you’ve made since you were brought back home. I know where you work, what you eat for dinner most nights - which is spaghetti—” I point a finger at her. “I know you have one friend you see on Sundays for yoga, and I know you want to enjoy all this freedom, but you’re not.”

I’m taking a big chance here. If I’m wrong, she’ll bolt, and I’ll never get a second chance.

Her mouth opens then closes three times before she growls and turns back to the windows. “You are fucking impossible.”

I smile. She didn’t run.

“You are as stubborn as a fucking mule,” I accuse.

“I want to forget you. I want to stop remembering all of it.” Her voice softens, and her hand raises to her face.

She’s crying.

“I’m sorry,” I say, moving to stand just out of reach of her. If I get closer, I’ll grab her and hold her and demand she never leave. This has to be her choice. She never had one with me before, but now she will. Even if she chooses to leave.

“I’m sorry for all of it - except for the part where you came into my life.” I clear my throat. I’m not one for such talk, but it’s the truth.

“My father’s gone. His trafficking business dismantled along with him and most of his men.” I want to assure her the men who hurt her died painfully, but I don’t want her memory to trail down that lane.

“You’re in charge now?”

“I am. You won’t like what I do to earn my money. I’m not a good man. But there will be no more slaves bought or sold in my family name.” The women my father kept in his clutches have all been given their freedom and have been set up with a life they will find some happiness in. “The estate in London has been sold. I won’t be going back there again.”

She tenses but doesn’t speak.

I can’t let her keep holding herself and thinking she’s alone in this. I move forward, standing behind her and wrapping my arms around her body.

“You just left me. Sent me away like I was nothing,” she whispers, twisting around in my arms and pressing her cheek to my chest. “You didn’t want me, and I had made myself believe that in your own way - you did. I was wrong.”

“No, you weren’t wrong,” I say, kissing the top of her head. “I was a fucking idiot. I needed to clean my house and I couldn’t do that with you in it. I didn’t want you to see me like that. I know I don’t deserve you, I deserve nothing but the fiery flames of hell I’ll surely meet when I die, but I can’t help but want you.”

“You kept tabs on me this whole time?” She pulls back to look up at me. Her eyes are red, the little mascara she wore has been smudged off. I run my thumb over her cheek to catch a tear.

“I wouldn’t just let you go off into the world unprotected, and if you decide you don’t want me, you’ll always have my protection.”

“And if I don’t want that either?” She’s pushing it, and I can see it in her eyes that she knows it.

“Well.” I sigh. “You don't have a say in that.”

“So, you’ll always be hovering? And if I marry? Have kids?” She shoves away from me, but I catch her arm, holding her near me.

“It would kill me, but I would still make sure you were safe, all of them were safe,” I vow.

“I don’t know this Kristoff.” She waves a hand at me. “This Kristoff is permissive, he’s quiet. Undemanding.”

“You’d rather have me force you?” I can’t - won’t do that again.

“No. Not that.” She shakes her head. “You haven’t even kissed me yet,” she blurts out.

I was waiting for the right moment, for her to want it as much as me, but I see now what she needs. She needs my power, my strength. Not just armed guards, but me. She needs me.

I yank her arm until back pressed against my chest again. Framing her face with both hands, I tilt her head back and crush her mouth with mine. My tongue doesn’t beg entrance, but rather invades her and she tangles with me with as much force as always. She’s not giving me an inch, she’s making me take from her. And it’s a sweet surrender when she finally places her hands on my chest and moans.

“This dress is better than that thing you wore last night, but I want it off,” I say against her lips. My cock is bursting to get out of my pants, but I am determined to go slow with her. I won’t hurt her a second time.

“What about dinner?” she asks, stepping out of my embrace.

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