Page 42 of Ensnared
His eyes met mine, filled with a determination that sent a shiver down my spine. "I want you with me," he said simply.
As he carried me out of my room and down the hallway towards his bedroom, I couldn't help but wonder what this meant. Was this an act of protection, or something more? The warmth of his body against mine was both comforting and unsettling, a reminder of the complex dynamic between us.
"I won't let anyone hurt you again, Josephine," Colson murmured. “Not even my daughter.”
When we reached his bedroom, he placed my feet gently on the floor beside his bed, his hands firm yet careful as he pulled down the covers. He nudged me back until I was seated, lifting my legs into the bed before folding the duvet over me. The warmth of the bed was comforting, but my attention was fixed on him as he began to undress.
I watched, captivated, as he stripped away his clothes, revealing the powerful lines of his body. Each movement was deliberate, almost ritualistic, until he was down to his boxers. He gatheredhis clothing and disappeared into the closet, then the bathroom. When he finally slipped in next to me, the fresh scent of mint lingered on his breath.
“You’re wearing my shirt,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with a teasing edge. “Is that because you missed me?”
A small smile tugged at my lips as I sniffled, the fabric of his shirt soft against my skin. “I did, and it’s so soft.”
His response was swift—a hard, possessive kiss that took my breath away. His hand slid down the front of the shirt, fingers brushing lightly over my skin before cupping my breasts, one after the other. The heat of his touch was undeniable, but tonight, I couldn’t go there.
“Please, not tonight,” I whispered, my voice barely more than a breath.
He pulled back slightly, a smirk playing on his lips. “You’re denying me?”
I hesitated, unsure how to explain the whirlwind of emotions that had been storming inside me. “I’m just…”
Before I could finish, he pressed a soft peck to my lips. “I’m not a monster, Joey. I understand.”
Relief washed over me, but it was quickly followed by a pang of guilt. I wanted to ask him about Poppy, to confront him with the questions that had been gnawing at me since I discovered the letters. But fear held me back. If I brought them up, he’d know I had invaded his privacy. The uncertainty hung between us, heavy and unspoken, as he settled beside me, his warmth enveloping me like a cocoon.
I turned on my side, trying to find comfort in the familiar scent of him, but my thoughts were a tangled mess. The urge to ask, to know more about the man lying next to me, was almost overpowering, yet I couldn’t bring myself to break the fragile peace we’d just found.
I wanted to know more about Poppy but to ask him would make him suspicious. I knew enough about her, but I wanted to know more because I had a feeling my marriage to Colson would be a competition with a ghost. I would never be able to match her grace and class.
“We have a date with the caterers tomorrow.”
As Colson and I sat down to discuss the wedding, I could feel a tension building inside me. The details had been planned to the last degree, a massive tent set to go up on the lawn, complete with air conditioning to combat the summer heat.
Colson had spared no expense, ensuring every guest would be comfortable, every moment perfectly orchestrated. Yet, as he described the arrangements, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was simply another piece in his perfectly curated picture.
“Everything will be set by the end of the week,” Colson said, his tone confident. “The tent, the flowers, the lighting—it’s all taken care of.”
“That sounds…nice,” I replied, trying to muster enthusiasm, but my voice betrayed me.
Colson noticed, his sharp eyes narrowing. “You don’t sound thrilled.”
I hesitated, unsure how to voice the frustration that had been simmering inside me. “I just…I feel like I haven’t had a say inany of this. Like I’m just another decoration in this wedding, something to be arranged and placed perfectly.”
He sat up, leaning his back against the headboard. “You think I haven’t involved you?”
“I wanted to be part of the planning, Colson,” I said, feeling a tremor of courage. “I wanted to make decisions, to choose things that mattered to me. But everything’s already been decided, and I’m just…here.”
His expression softened slightly, but his voice remained firm. “Joey, I’ve done this to make things easier for you. Planning a wedding is stressful, and I didn’t want you to feel overwhelmed.”
“But I wanted to be overwhelmed,” I shot back, the words tumbling out before I could stop them. “I wanted to be involved, to feel like this is our wedding, not just something you’re organizing.”
Colson sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I understand that, but I also know how easily things could go wrong if we’re not careful. I wanted it to be perfect for you.”
“Perfect according to whose standards?” I asked, my voice softening as the weight of my own emotions began to settle. “Because right now, it feels like I’m just here to fit into your vision of what perfect is.”
He reached out, taking my hand in his. “You’re not just a decoration, Joey. You’re the reason I’m doing all of this. I wanted you to have the best, to not have to worry about anything.”
“I know you mean well,” I said, squeezing his hand. “But I need to feel like I’m part of this too. Like it’s my wedding, not just something happening around me.”
