Page 50 of The Russian's Kidnapped Bride
Sitting back in my chair, I keep my gaze on her steady. “I gave you freedom when you could’ve had otherwise. You wanted school and normalcy, and that’s exactly what I gave you.”
“At the cost of everything else,” Lily returns, not giving up. “You forced me into marrying you only a few days ago. You dragged me into your world with your family, your enemies, and everything else I still haven’t seen. I never asked for any of this, and you want me to thank you?”
“I didn’t ask for you to stumble across that alley either,” I snap back, sounding sharper than I intend. “This wasn’t in my plans—not until you became a situation I had to fix. I never asked for you to walk into our business. I didn’t tell you to take that shortcut, but I sure as hell had to clean up the mess anyway, and that’s exactly what I did. I did it to keep your mouth shutand to keep you safe. Do you think I enjoy the way you look at me like I’m a goddamn monster every time I enter the room?”
Lily flinches at my tone, and the regret filters in immediately.
Shit.
Scrubbing a hand down my face, I try to rein myself back in. To keep my cool and not let her see just how her resistance is getting to me.
Suddenly, the confidence and ease I felt this morning seem so distant.
She remains quiet for an uncomfortable amount of time before her voice comes out even quieter. “Then why keep me here? I already told you I won’t say a word about any of this.”
“Because you can’t be too careful in my line of work,” I mumble, hating how this whole thing is making me vulnerable. “Because I want you here.”
The words come out despite how tight my throat becomes, almost like my instincts to protect myself and keep everyone at arm’s length kick in.
I can be lighthearted when I want to be, but I’m not one to let my true feelings slip through the cracks with anyone outside of my family. Hell, half the time, I’m not even fully honest with them.
But for some reason, I want to be honest with Lily. I want her to know the things I wouldn’t dare tell anyone else.
She takes a moment, surely gathering her thoughts, then murmurs, “Why—because I’m something you can control? Someone to warm your bed? What do you really want from me?”
Before I can stop myself, I stand abruptly, charging the air with even more tension.
What do I want? Where do I even begin?
I want so much from her. I want her to stop looking at me like I’m going to ruin her life at any given moment. I want her to be open with me and not be so damn afraid. I want her to trust me.
More so than anything, I want her to choose to be here with me. To not close up every time we get close.
Moving around the table, I stop right beside her and lean down a touch, taking in her tight posture and the near scowl on her face.
“You know far too much for me to let you go—especially now,” I begin, letting every word stretch and linger to make her feel every syllable. “I could’ve buried you somewhere and walked away without thinking twice. If I were a worse man, maybe I would have. But I didn’t because that’s not me. I couldn’t, even if I wanted to.”
Her eyes widen slightly as if letting that reality sink in. Then she whispers, “Why not?”
Without thinking, I reach out and gently touch her cheek, letting my thumb brush against her skin. “I think you already know the answer to that…it should be obvious by now.”
Our attention remains fully locked on one another, and everything else ceases to exist. It’s just us and that burning chemistry between us that she seems hellbent on ignoring.
She swallows hard. “Then say it.”
Entertaining her, I move a bit closer until our faces are near enough for me to catch her shaky breaths. “Because you made me feel something I haven’t felt for most of my life thatfirst night—something real. And I’ve been chasing that high ever since.”
A faint shudder moves through Lily’s body, and she doesn’t pull away.
Instead, we remain like that, caught at a crossroads while her hesitant breath lingers between us, and my pulse pounds harder than it should. This kind of proximity shouldn’t affect us the way it does, but there’s no denying it.
Everything aboutusis complicated, but it’s real. It’s honest, as she likes to harp on me.
Then, she turns her head slightly, making me think she’s about to lean into my touch. Instead, she pulls back and stands, slipping away from my touch. She puts enough distance between us to make me cold again.
“I’m sleeping in the spare bedroom.”
Without missing a beat, I say firmly, “No, you’re not.”
