Page 63 of Unwrapping Deviance

I open my mouth, but a whole other voice breaks into our argument.

“I do.”

Mira stalks down the stairs, every motion tense. Her usually sweet expression is hard and dark with anger. She’s clad in a long, white t-shirt, slender legs bared.

“I’d let him,” she snaps. “I would love a masked man to chase me through the woods and do whatever the fuck he wants with me when he catches me. I’d let him fuck me six ways to Sunday in any fucking way he wants all night.” She stomps to where I stand with her book and rips it from my numb fingers. Her glare is razor-sharp shards of glass meeting mine. “Hell, at this point, I’ll fuck just about anyone who asks.”

I’m still reeling from her sand storm of fury, her serrated confession that when she spins on her heels and charges back upstairs, I’m not quick enough to process the rest until I hear the door slam upstairs.

Christian meets my stunned expression. His mirrors mine, but with a hint of amusement.

“What did you do?”

Night vibrates around me with a stillness that eats at my nerves. My already brimming annoyance brews at a steady simmer that makes me anxious and restless.

I want to pace. To walk the house like some irritable ghost.

I want to storm into Mira’s room, tear off her covers and pin her down and fuck her until she never mentions fucking another guy again.

Christian’s caution at the diner echoes through my brain, reminding me again and again that she’ll find someone else, because of course she will. Mira is fucking beautiful. She’s smart and kind, and warm and generous. She’s everything I’ve ever wanted in my life and I have her.

Kind of.

I’m trying to protect her. I’m trying to give her time. I don’t ... I don’t want her to regret us.

Me.

I don’t want her to think I’m taking advantage of her when she’s so vulnerable.

Goddamn, I’m trying to do the right thing.

Infuriated, I kick off the sheets and sit up. I brush my hands through my hair and down over my face. I scrub hard enough to hurt and I see stars.

Maybe I should just submit. Maybe I’m fighting a losing battle. Why try when I’m going to lose her regardless?

I need a walk. It’s a stupid decision in the dark, in the woods, but maybe a pack of bears will eat me and I won’t have to worry about it anymore.

But the moment the thought crosses my mind, I know I’m an asshole. Mira would be devastated if anything happened to me. She’d fall apart and there would be no one to catch her.

God, I can’t figure this out at all.

I suck in a breath, trying to recalibrate. Maybe a shower instead. A nice cold one to freeze my balls and numb my dick.

I shove to my feet and sweep my t-shirt up and over my head. The article is chucked down on the bed. I shuffle to the door in my boxers. The board creaks under my weight. A low whinefollows that has me pausing when it doesn’t come from beneath my feet but the door at the end of the hall.

Mira!

I’m at the barrier in three strides. My fingers grab the knob and twist.

And nothing.

Locked.

She locked the door!

But I can hear her soft whimpering, her jagged gasps. The sheets rustle with her thrashing.

“Mira!” I beat the door with my fist. My other hand wrenches harder at the handle. “Baby, open the door.”

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