Page 64 of Craving Dahlia

Dahlia doesn’t leave my mind for even a second as I ride home. Nor does she leave my thoughts as I pace upstairs, trying to think of what to do, until I hear the front door downstairs open and close, and then quick footsteps down the hall, her bedroom door opening a moment later.

I run my hands through my hair, striding out of my room and down the hall to hers, not bothering to knock. I barge in, and she lets out a squeal, jumping an inch into the air from where she’s standing in front of her dresser, in nothing but her bare feet, pants, and bra.

My cock instantly twitches at the sight of her soft, creamy breasts mounding over the lace of her bra, and Dahlia sees my eyes drop to them. She narrows hers, glaring at me.

“Get out,” she snaps, and I close the door behind me, leaning against it in a clear refusal.

“You are so fucking insufferable!” She throws her shirt into the open drawer, turning sharply towards me. Her breasts shift under the lace, and my mouth goes dry, my cock swelling against my thigh. “You come to my work, fuck me on my desk without listening to a single thing I have to say about it?—”

“Oh I heard everything from you about that,” I tell her, my lips twitching. “I heard you trying not to moan while I made you come three times, Dahlia. I’m willing to bet I’ve made you comemore times in the brief span that we’ve known each other than you’ve come with every other man combined. Am I wrong?”

Her jaw tightens, but she doesn’t answer, and satisfaction sweeps through me. That’s an answer in and of itself.

“I want you to take another leave of absence,” I tell her flatly. “I don’t like you away from the house, at work without protection. Or ask Dimitri for a bodyguard?—”

“You told me not to say anything about what happened,” she says acidly, and I wince. “What excuse would I have for that?”

I shrug, trying to seem more casual than I feel. “Evelyn has one. Say it makes you feel safer. Say you’re worried about being married into the Yashkov family?—”

“That’s a lie. I’m not going to lie to my brother-in-law.”

“You’re not worried?”

“Not because I married into this family,” Dahlia fires back. “If I’m worried about anything, it’s because you’re keeping things from me, Alek. I’m having these strange, dangerous things happen, these scary fucking things—” She gestures to the bruises on her arm. They’re darker today, and I feel my hands clench into fists. “And you won’t explain any of them!”

“I don’t need to,” I growl through clenched teeth, feeling frustration well up in my chest. “I’m your husband, and?—”

“Don’t fucking pull that card again!” Dahlia snaps, pointing a finger at me as her eyes spark with anger. “You don’t want to be my husband. You never have?—”

“And you don’t want to be my wife!”

“That’s not the point.” She narrows her eyes. “I’m not the one pulling the ‘but I’m your wife’ card,Alek.I didn’t demand you go to the appointment with me. I haven’t asked you foranything. In fact, I’ve been trying to put as much space between us as possible while we figure out how the hell we’re going to navigate this?—”

“When you say it like that, it almost sounds like you’re just married to me as a failsafe, until you have a better plan.”

Her face falls, ever so briefly, and a sharp pain jabs, hard, in my chest. I cross my arms, refusing to acknowledge the hurt. I refuse to let myself entertain the thought, even for a moment, that I might want Dahlia towantto be married to me. That I might want to be married to her. It’s pointless, and itwillend, one way or another.

But if she’s truly the mother of my child—and I believe her, now—then I want both her and our child safe. Even if it’s without me. I focus on that, and not on the feeling of betrayal that slices through my chest as I realize I’m just her backup plan. After all, she’s right that she’s never pretended that she wanted this. And it’s nothing compared to the betrayal I’ve suffered in the past. Hearing that shouldn’t hurt.

Dahlia’s jaw tightens. “Stop changing the subject,” she bites out. “You’re trying to tell me what to do, because you’re ‘my husband’. Well, you need to pick one, Alek. Either you open up to me, and explain to mewhyI should listen to you, and what the hell is going on—or you keep your distance and your secrets. You can’t have both.”

Her voice is sharp, cutting. I can tell that she means it. And for one wild moment, I feel the urge to tell her everything.

What would that feel like?To unburden myself to someone, to let them hear about and see everything that was done to me over the last five years? Would it change anything? And how would Dahlia look at me, once she knew?

My chest tightens, and for a moment my vision swims, the panic that rushes through me at the thought making it feel like I can’t breathe—for a moment, making me feel like I might actually be dying. I know what it feels like to be on the cusp of death, and rationally I know this isn’t it—but it feels that way.

I can’t trust her with this. Not yet, and likely not ever. Because if I let her see all of the raw wounds just under the surface and she pushed me away after?

It would be worse than revealing all of it to my brother. Worse than keeping it to myself. I don’t have it in me to let another woman reduce me to nothing.

I promised myself it would never happen again.

“Fine,” I bite out, the words coming out harsh and rasping. “We’re on the same page, aren’t we? Neither of us really want this. Which means I’ll keep what I want to myself, and once you figure out what you want, you’ll hit the road. Baby or no baby.”

That pain slices through my chest again, and I see Dahlia falter for a split second, her gorgeous eyes meeting mine. But she drops her gaze just as quickly, turning back to her dresser—effectively dismissing me.

I don’t fucking care.I tell myself that as I yank the door open with a growl, storming back into the hall and letting it slam behind me.I don’t care that she doesn’t want to listen to me—that she doesn’t even wantme, unless I’m making her come. I don’t give a shit about any of it.

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