Page 29 of Cage the Storm
She doesn’t blink, just waits.
I push my plate aside and lean in. Mimicking her. “I’ve done things I haven’t always been proud of. Things I’ve let happen that would be too hard to explain all at once. No justifications that make it easier to swallow.”
Her eyes remain locked on mine. Nothing I say seems to faze this woman. Where others have backed down from my assertiveness, she’s always met me head-on. “I’m not asking you to sugarcoat it. Just tell me the truth.”
And that. That hits harder than anything else. Because she means it, she always has.
I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. “You want the truth? Then don’t cringe when it gets ugly.”
A slow smile pulls at her mouth. “I never have.”
All of this talk is just that. I’ve always been a man of action; words are empty tools until you prove them worthy. It’s the whole idiom that actions speak louder than words. She would head for the hills if I showed her the man that truly exists beneath this suit.
Her words hang in the air, daring me to respond, to let her in. She’s persistent, and I can feel the pull between us tightening, like a thread stretched to its limit.
“You think you already know me, but there are parts of me you wouldn’t want to see, Luna. Parts I’m not sure I want you to see.”
Her gaze remains ice cold, and that quiet strength of hers is maddening. “Maybe I’ve already seen more than you think,” she replies, her tone soft but unyielding. “And maybe I’m still here in spite of it.”
The words hit me harder than I expected, and I can’t look away for a moment. There’s something in her eyes that feels like a challenge and a promise all at once. It stirs something in me I don’t trust. Something that feels too close to need.
“You don’t know what you’re asking for,” I say, leaning forward, my elbows resting on the table. “This world, it’s not kind to people who care too much.”
“And yet, here you are,” she counters. “Caring more than you want to admit.”
I hold my breath, wondering if this is the moment when I let her in just enough to wreck everything I’ve built.
She watches me, patiently giving me time to respond. And I realize, at this moment, that she’s not pushing. She’s simply letting me choose.
I lean back, my fingers curling into a fist against my thigh. “If I admit—if I tell you I care—what then?” My voice is low, but there’s a rawness to it I don’t bother hiding.
She tilts her head, considering. “Then you stop pretending you don’t,” she says, not missing a beat. The simplicity of her answer stirs something dangerous inside of me.
I shake my head, a dry laugh escaping before I can stop it. “You think it’s that easy?”
“No,” she says, “I think it scares you.”
That stops me cold. I look away, but it’s too late; she’s already seen through me.
And then, as if to prove her point, Luna doesn’t look away. She waits, challenging me without saying a word.
Then, just like that, I know I’ve already lost.
I exhale as I watch her and let the gravity of this moment press into me. She’s still waiting, like she knows I won’t walk away from this.
“I don’t scare easily,” I say finally, my voice low but firm.
She smirks. “Then what is this, Nicolai?” she asks, tilting her head ever so slightly, forcing me to acknowledge the elephant in the room. The restraint, the heat, the way my cock hardens when she looks at me like this.
I clench my jaw because I don’t have an answer that won’t sound like an excuse. Not one that won’t confirm what we both already know.
Her gaze searches mine, daring me to say something. And somehow, neither feels like the right move.
“You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into,” I mutter, setting the glass down with more force than necessary.
She leans in, and I swear the air crackles between us. “And yet, I’m still here.”
Damn her. Damn the way she refuses to give me an inch of space to retreat. And damn if I don’t want to clear this table with the swipe of my hand. So, I can spread her legs and fuck her until she remembers who’s in control.
