Page 12 of The Carver

I left my phone on the coffee table and sat in the armchair that faced the door, my elbow propped on the armrest, my fingers against my jawline, staring at the door as I waited for her to walk up three flights of stairs or take the elevator to my floor.

My heart rate was always steady in the tensest situations because I didn’t register fear or anxiety like most people did. It was the calm that made me uncomfortable.

Her footsteps were audible outside the door. She stopped before she turned the knob, taking a second before she entered the monster’s den. She better have something good rehearsed, because I was the judge you didn’t want to rule on your case. My patience was minimal and my sympathy nonexistent.

She found the courage to step inside, in black jeans and boots, a gray sweater that exposed one shoulder. She didn’t carry herself with the confidence she’d held at the bar when she served assholes like me. She was the one who had come to me, but she moved so slowly and quietly, it was like she didn’t want me to notice her.

She closed the door behind her before her eyes found me in the armchair by the fire. We exchanged a long stare, her green eyes showing her intimidation. As if my anger was a ring of fire that surrounded me, she stayed clear of the flames.

I refused to speak first, so I stared her down and waited. My expression must have been severe because she still didn’t sayanything, like she was contemplating abandoning the mission and fleeing instead.

She took a breath before she approached the sitting area. “I’m sorry…”

I stared at her for several long seconds, expecting a hell of a lot more than that. “You’re sorry?”

Her eyes were different, timid in fear, a bit wet from emotion.

“That’s it?”

“I’ve never seen you look like that.”

“Because you’ve never seen me mad.” I rose from the armchair.

She immediately flinched, like I would cross the room and break her neck.

I moved around the back of the couch and drew near, but not close enough for her to reach out and touch me, at least ten feet of distance between her hand and my heart. “You came all the way up here, and that’s the best you’ve got?” My arms hung by my sides, and I looked at her with a mixture of rage and disappointment, pissed off at myself for being hard at the sight of her, for wanting to stick my dick in her mouth while she said how damn sorry she was.

She breathed hard, like she’d forgotten that I was a terrifying man you didn’t want to cross. “I’m sorry?—”

“For what?” I clapped my hands together hard, making a sound so loud it could have shattered the windows. “What the fuck are you sorry for?—”

“I’m sorry that I got scared. I’m sorry that I let the worst thoughts get the best of me. I’m sorry that I said I didn’t wantto see you anymore.” Her eyes watered further, on the verge of a flood of tears. “God, I don’t want to lose you…” The tears spilled over and streaked down her cheeks like liquid diamonds.

I inhaled a slow breath, feeling the fuel of my flames begin to die down.

“I was scared, but a one-week trial with your ghost has shown me there are worse things to be afraid of.” Her eyes remained wet, and new tears cascaded down her cheeks.

Only a truly beautiful woman could cry like that and still look breathtaking. My resentment began to slip from my grasp because my fingers turned soft on the rope. “I told you you’re either with me or I’m gone. You made your choice. We didn’t even make it past the first course before you dumped me. I’ve never had to work so hard for a woman just to watch her walk away. Do I look like a man who puts up with that shit?”

They were just tears at first, but her breaths changed as she tried to stop crying.

I was a sick fuck because I liked it. I liked watching her finally show me her damn cards. Finally show me what I meant to her. That she was wrapped around my goddamn finger just the way I was wrapped around hers. That we were in this together whether she liked it or not. “I told you I don’t believe in second chances.”

She moved into me, her forehead resting against my chin with her face pressed into my neck. Her hands moved to my arms, and she gripped the muscles like I might push her off. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” Her warm breaths blanketed my skin as she spoke. Her voice was cracked from the pain in in. Her fingertips trembled slightly against my flesh like she feared this was the end. “Please don’t make me go.”

I closed my eyes and inhaled a slow breath, feeling a surge of arousal I’d never felt in my life. I’d had good sex, desired beautiful women, explored everything there was to explore. But none of those experiences compared to how I felt now, elicited by this single woman. All I wanted was for her to want me with the intensity that I wanted her.

I slid my hand into her hair, and I forced her head back to look at me.

Her eyes were still wet and dripping in fear, afraid of what I would say next.

“Are you in this with me?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure? Because I’m a dangerous man in a dangerous business, and that’s never going to change. I am who I am, and if you want me, you need to accept me. You need to accept that I want all of you to myself, that I don’t want to share you or be shared, that I want more than just something casual and easy. I want you to be my woman, I want commitment, I want something more than a week or a month or a year. Maybe forever. Don’t forget you aren’t the only one who’s got a heart on the line. Don’t forget you aren’t the only one who’s risking something. I’ve never done this before, but I know I want to do it with you. Those are my terms. So, if any of that is disagreeable to you, then get out now and don’t waste my fucking time.”

The tears stopped, but pools of emotion were still in her eyes. She cupped my jaw, and she rose on her tiptoes like a ballerina to get as close to me as possible, bending over backward to accommodate me the way I’d bent my back so many times. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

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