Page 32 of Entangled
Not to mention I deserved to have a good time. To have something good for myself for once.
To take what I wanted.
But although Kade said those things, did he really mean them?
After he had spouted off his dirty threat, he had laughed it off and walked away, leaving me stunned stupid. Part of me wondered if I’d imagined the whole thing and somehow dozed off and had some kind of weird dream.
But I knew that wasn’t the case. I knew Kade was just that bold, even if he didn’t mean it. He obviously had no shame in his game.
But why on Earth would he be interested in me? I didn’t really take care of myself, never wearing makeup and looking like a hollowed-out version of myself.
But even that was changing.
Every day I’d look in the mirror, and I could see my face begin to fill out and the bags under my eyes begin to vanish. I had more energy throughout the day, and my mind felt calmer. I could stay up all night reading and not feel a thing.
It’s like I was on the verge of dying, and being here for just a short period of time had begun to remind me what it was like to feel alive.
But what killed me was I didn’t feel this way in my own home. It was a thought that I constantly kept coming back to. Why had I let myself get this bad? Why hadn’t I left Boston when I wanted to, like I’d planned? Why did I let Lilah stop me? Even before she had trapped me in a marriage?
I could easily be living in somewhere like Seattle, with my own apartment full of glass windows, and an easel in my living room where I could paint until my hand cramped, and study fine arts like I’d wanted to. It blew my mind that getting kidnapped by a criminal was what it took to show me what I truly was missing out on, and what my heart still craved.
Yes, I could still paint at home, but my heart was never in it. It felt like I hadn’t touched my paintbrushes in weeks. All I wanted to paint was darkness and pain instead of the bright colors of the world and happiness.
I used to be such a happy person. But when my father married the Wicked Witch of the West she slowly drained the life out of me year after year, until my father died and the rest of me faded away with him.
After some time, my eyes would focus, having gotten lost staring into my own eyes in the mirror and in my own pitiful thoughts, restoring my clear vision.
I would make my way down to the dining room to eat something for breakfast before taking my cup of coffee into the library and spending the majority of the day there. Every day felt so normal and routine.
I rarely saw Kade in the morning for breakfast or in the afternoon for lunch. I didn’t even want to know why he was gone so early in the morning and gone for so long.
I’d only ever bothered to memorize Jude’s schedule so I knew he was coming home, and when he’d leave. His schedule was the same every day, since his dad ran everything on the Mafia side and Jude ran his father’s company for him. It looked like a legitimate company but was far from it.
But whatever works, I guess.
My thoughts were bouncing all over the place, laying here, sleep nowhere in sight but I couldn’t get Kade out of my mind. The things he said to me. The way he’d looked in a t-shirt and a pair of sweats. The way electricity flew between our bodies when he taught me to defend myself. How his breath felt against my skin. How delectable he looked when he took off his shirt, the sweat dripping down his rock-hard abs and leading down to underneath his waistband.
I couldn’t even get the throbbing of my core to stop. I was laying here, itching to relieve the buildup, or itching for Kade to relieve the buildup for me himself. He’d made me this way. It would only be fair that he helped the situation.
But as I laid there, I talked myself out of it. I didn’t feel brave enough to go jump his bones at this hour, especially if he ended up rejecting me. Then I’d be mortified for the rest of my days. I’d probably be the punch line of a joke between him and his brothers until I died.
I wanted to roll over so badly and sleep, but I was wide awake, buzzing with need. As if he could sense it all the way from wherever his bedroom was, which I assumed was the opposite side of the house. I heard the door open, and the side of the bed dip, not having to look to know it was Kade.
“Can’t sleep?” I asked, my throat dry, fighting with myself harder and harder against this man.
“Not in the slightest,” he responded, laying back onto the pillows with his hands behind his head.
“What’s on your mind?” I said after a moment, turning my head slightly to read his features, the only light in the room the sliver of moonlight from the window.
“You,” he growled.
“Me?” I said, trying to swallow the lump in my throat.
“Yes. You,” he said, not giving any room for questions. “You've been in my every waking thought since I brought you here, Soren. You’re in my head when I’m out running the streets for my father. When I’m trying to read in the library, while you sit there on the couch. When I’m fucking my hand in the shower.”
I gasped, my heart beginning to pound.
“Oh,” I replied, the only thing I was able to get out.
