Page 231 of Bitter Poetry
She huffs out a little breath.
I smile.
She doesn’t return it, but she’s sending me an almost shy glance, and her cheeks have taken on a darker hue. I’d say she’s thinking about dick.
I’m thinking about it too. Putting mine in her. But also how Christian and I have barely seen her over the last month, and that, when we do, no matter how we try to love, and to show her love, it feels like it never quite penetrates the shield she has wrapped around herself.
“So you’re saying we can go out now?” She sounds uncertain.
“Yes, within reason. Your sister is about to start college. I don’t want to interfere with that, and it’s time, either way.”
I made a mistake in letting Carmela stay with her father and Jessica in my parents’ former home—now my home. My reasoning was sound at the time. There was a lot of shit going down and the house provided comfort and security. With hindsight, I was setting a precedent and giving mixed signals regarding her status to us.
It’s time to reclaim my home and my woman.
The single story summerhouse within the grounds is better suited to Cedro’s needs. The few necessary renovations are now complete. Today, her father and sister moved into it and out of my home.
They are close by, and protected.
And we get some privacy back so we can resolve our unorthodox relationship.
“Will you give it some thought? What I asked?”
Hell no.
It would appear Carmela has forgotten what I told her in my office the day she fled.
I will never let her go. Not willingly, nor through negligence, nor any other reason. And I won’t have to. The tracking implant embedded under her skin may not have been my idea, but I was more than happy to play my part. I have to admit, Christian is nothing if not pragmatic, and he doesn’t suffer from undue ethics when it comes to protecting what’s ours.
“Just in case she gets confused and runs again, yeah.”
I can’t lie about it. Putting it under her skin while she slept—with a little help—was deeply compelling, uncovering a dark need in me. No discussion. No protests. She can’t be lost to me again because I can’t live without her. When she came around, I fucked her like a man possessed.
Fine, I started the process earlier…
“I just need some time.”
She’s pleading with me for understanding. Maybe a better man would listen to her. She’s been through a lot. But no one gives you the ‘I need time’ line and then gets over it.
She’s telling me it’s over.
Fuck that. There’s no chance I will let her go. If she wants to work through her feelings and issues, she can work through them from the vantage of my bed with my dick inside her.
No more hiding. The world will need to get over what we have, and that includes her father and her sister if they have a problem with it.
She’s scared, maybe insecure, possibly even confused, and definitely weighed down by the guilt of nearly losing Christian.
If I thought she genuinely didn’t want this,us, could I let her go?
I don’t fucking know.
“It’s late; let’s talk about it tomorrow.”
Her face says she doesn’t believe me.
She would be right.
I’m calm on the outside as I get ready for bed.
