Page 100 of The Cartographer

“Then I’m asking. I’m asking for you, Allie. Don’t go with him please. Stay with me. I want you. I’ve never wanted anyone like I want you. You make me feel things that not only have I never felt, but I never thought I had the right to feel. That scared the living daylights out of me. I should’ve told you, talked to you. I didn’t know how. I still feel as though I’m making a royal hash of this, but I’m doing my best. You…you make me feel mortal, and I don’t know that there’s a higher compliment I can give. So, please. I’ll get on my knees and beg if you need me to, but say you’ll be mine.”

He’s regarding me with this maddeningly impersonal expression, and it makes me want to split his head open and drag out his thoughts—say yes, damn you—but of course that wouldn’t work even if I tried. So I take every ounce of patience I’ve developed over the years and weigh down my desperate need to know what the hell is going through that head of his.

After what feels like years but is likely only seconds, he holds up a finger.

“Hang on.”

Hang on?I’m dangling by my fingernails over the edge of doubt into the pit of despair and he asks me tohang on? Who says I’m the only sadist standing on this godforsaken porch.

He enters the house, and I hope he’s not going to leave me out here, mooning over him on the porch, perhaps calling everyone I know to point and stare at the mighty Rey Walter, reduced to pining for a man on a stoop. Jesus. I try to swallow it, because though it makes my blood run cold at the thought of my reputation being tarnished, the fact is when I told Allie I’d beg, I wasn’t lying. Waiting for a minute in return for the three weeks of suffering I’ve imposed on us both seems the least I can do.

It isn’t more than a couple of minutes later he’s hustling out the door, swiveling his head until he finds me, waiting.

His smile breaks across his face, and he strides toward me, all proud and powerful. He’s a mouthwatering sight to behold. My desire for him grows stronger still when he reaches me, stands toe-to-toe, and takes my face in his hands and tips it oh-so-slightly up so my lips meet his.

It’s strange, this reversal of roles, and I won’t lie—I don’t care for it. I understand what he’s trying to do, though, so I let him take what he needs. Assurance.I’m still here and I want you. That’s what I try to tell him with my lips, my teeth, my tongue, my hands that have started roaming his body brazenly.God, I want you.

He breaks the kiss and lets his hands drop to his side, his eyes bright and wild with lust. “You looked worried. Did you think I wasn’t coming back?”

“I didn’t know what the fuck you were doing,” I say, cupping his jaw, stroking his cheek with my thumb and leaning into him so I can lay my forehead against his. This is my favorite—to feel our breath mingling, to share even the air we inhale and exhale.

“I was telling Julian I couldn’t stay and offering my apologies. He’s been a good friend to me, but I think he knew it wasn’t going to last forever. But still, manners right?”

I’ve taught him well, maybe too well. Also, I will be sending Julian…I don’t know, anything he wants. A hundred times over. “Yes, what with the manners. Should I take this as your answer? You’re saying yes?”

“You sound pretty impatient, sir.”

His gently mocking tone is driving me mad and not in a good way, so I let the vicious growl bubbling in my chest burble up my throat and grind out of my mouth. “I am. And you’d best do something about it, otherwise you’re not going to be happy with the consequences.”

I draw back so I don’t bite his throat or drag him back to my car, size be damned. It’s not as though I’ll feel it if I hurt myself anyhow. Although it’s all about consent, right? I’ve got to follow my own goddamn rules, though at the moment I’d like to shred them and chain him in my basement.

“Jesus, can we go home now? Please?” I’ll call on the way so we’re not greeted by the committee. I want to be alone with Hart and show him precisely how much I’ve missed him; make up my fuckery with a language I actually know how to speak.

“I don’t know… I kinda want to see if I can get you to stamp your foot.”

My head explodes. I can’t even with this. Before he can move, I wrap my hand around his neck, dig my fingers into a nerve, and am gratified when his eyes bug and he gasps.Not so fun to toy with now, am I?Or, given the way his pupils are dilating and his breath is getting short…motherfuck.

“What is it going to take to get you out of here and into my bed? What do you want from me?”

I loosen my grip so he can answer me, and he looks into my eyes, his expression mirroring the vulnerability I feel. “Tell me you love me.”

“Is that all? You know I’ve been saying it in my head for months? Even if I couldn’t say it out loud, even if I couldn’t admit it to myself? I love you, Hart.”

“Say my name,” he begs, and anything I’ve been holding back spills over.

“Allie. Allie. I want you, Allie. Be mine, Allie. I love you, Allie.”

“I love you too.”

We kiss again, tender and hungry, desperate and affectionate. After a few minutes of what I can only describe as making out, I break our bond and drag him to my car with a hand held firmly around the back of his neck. “I don’t think Julian would appreciate us scene-ing and fucking on his porch. Or maybe he would, but I wouldn’t. I’m not averse to handing you over to someone else to use, but I’m not sharing this moment with anyone.”

Allie grins at me, his smile so open and lovely, and happiness like I’ve never known overtakes me. Perhaps a perk of being human. “Yes, sir.”

Epilogue

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“You’re not goingto lock a collar on me?”

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