Page 60 of Tempting Promises
Rowan’s eyes are wide, and he reaches for me, but I put my hand out. “What are you going off about? I don’t hate you. Why are you so upset?”
“Because I hate me! I’m terrible to you! You’ve been sonice, and I’ve been a raging bitch! Take my food, all of it, I deserve to s-starve,” I hiccup and wipe at my falling tears. “You’ve taken care of me this whole time, I can’t-t eat your f-food.”
Okay, it’s official, I’ve lost my mind. Four and a half days in the woods, and I’ve cracked. That’s got to be a record somewhere.
Even Tom Hanks lasted weeks before he lost it and he only had Wilson.
I have a living person and I didn’t make it a whole week, but he was able to fish so he wasn’t completely starving.
“Charlotte, easy, sweetheart, I don’t hate you, and while you can be a bitch at times, you’re not a bitch.”
I shake my head. “That doesn’t even make sense!”
He steps forward, pulling me against his chest. “It does. Listen, you don’t deserve to starve or anything else. You’re stuck out here, your ankle hurts, we’re both hungry, and this went from being a one-night thing to being a bleak outlook. Don’t cry, I can’t handle it.” He pulls my head back, holding it in his palms. “No tears.”
I try to hold them back, but they keep falling. I want to go back to the house. I need a shower and a lobotomy after all the shit we’ve done. It’s not just the hunger, pain, and inability to use the bathroom without risking my life. It’s that all I want to do is strip him down and ride him like a pony again.
Which is fucking insane.
Maybe that’s it. Maybe I’ve lost all of my mental faculties andI’m sleeping with him because my sanity is frozen like the ground outside.
At least that would be a reason.
“I want to go home,” I whine, and I know it’s whiney and stupid, but I needed to say it.
“I do too.”
“I want a shower and a meal and my bed.”
As though he doesn’t want the same thing.
“I know, sweetheart.”
I’m not a sweetheart and when he calls me that, I feel that anger and hurt in my chest rise again. “What’s wrong with me? Why am I losing my mind?” I ask as though he would have a clue.
“There’s nothing wrong with you.”
I sniffle and close my eyes. There is so much wrong with me. It’s not even funny at this point. However, my latest series of mistakes are just icing on my shit cake.
My gaze meets his, and I wrap both hands around his wrists, holding him as he holds me. His thumb brushes the tear rolling down my cheek and then he smiles. “Other than the fact that we’re stuck here and you’re batshit crazy.”
I laugh at the same time he does. I needed that. “Other than that.”
“I know me offering you food set you off, but I mean it, I’m fine, just eat the bar and then take a nap or something.”
I step back, nodding once. “Thank you.”
“See, and here you think I’m the biggest dickhead on this planet. So far, I’ve fed you, comforted you, given you a series of pretty fantastic orgasms, and I haven’t killed you. You know what?” Rowan asks, plucking the bar out of my hand. “I deserve a cookie, so this will be the substitute.”
His playful demeanor shakes me out of my mini—okay, full-blown—meltdown. I grab it back. “I don’t think so. I’ve also been nice, given you a blowjob as well as several orgasms, and haven’t killed you. So, give it back, jackass.”
“Ask nicely.”
I snort. “Not on your life.”
I reach toward his middle, tickling him, and when his arm drops to protect himself, I grab the half a bar and shove it in my mouth.
So ladylike.
