Page 51 of Unhinged

"That’s great, but I hope you know I’m gonna buy something pink. Maybe lots of pink.”

He makes a face. "Pink?"

"The ultimate feminine color, and it’s my favorite. Don’t judge."

"I don’t want pink in my bedroom." His nose crinkles.

“Challenging your fragile male ego? I thought it wasourroom?”

He growls and pinches my ass.

“Fine then. Creams, golds, neutrals. Is that better? Your whole house is like some kind of control freak manifesto."

He shakes his head. "You’re unbelievable."

I smile at him sweetly, and my stomach growls. Still starving.

Something buzzes between us.

"Either you’re packing a vibrator or someone’s calling you."

"Option two."

He answers his phone, lifts it to his ear, and, with his other hand, keeps me pinned against the wall, holding me there like I might vanish if he doesn’t keep a grip.

I watch his eyes while he talks, and for no reason at all, I lick my lips. His fingers tighten on my shoulder, a silentdon’t you fucking start.

Yum.

I swallow hard.

"Yes. No problem. Yeah, she knows because my mother’s got a big mouth, so we need to get together soon. Of course, yeah. Bye."

He hangs up and looks at me. He shrugs, all nonchalant, but his hand is still on me. "Guess they’re not coming after all."

My stomach knots. I don’t know what to do with the swirl of conflicting feelings.

On one hand, I’m disappointed. I have a sister, and I wanted to meet her. Surely no one can be as bad as his mother?

On the other hand, I have exactly zero desire to see Rafail anytime soon, so yeah—relief.

And I’m still starving.

"I guess I have a little more time to get some clothes."

“Or not.”

My pussy throbs.

"And some food," he says. “I’m about five minutes away from throwing shit."

He pushes away from the wall, but his fingers lace through mine.

He’s holding my hand.

I’m not a hand-holder. I’m not a cuddler. But I like holdinghishand.

"Here," he says, handing me his phone. "Order what you want."

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