I wasn’t paying attention and therefore his hand had drifted up my back, neck and into my hair to cup the back of my head before I clocked its movement. I also didn’t notice the change that had come over him while his eyes held mine; a change that I sensed was significant, so significant it was downright important but even so, I couldn’t put a finger on it.
He took my mind off all of this when he replied quietly, “I get you.”
“Good,” I clipped. “And another thing, when we chat we don’t do it with you holding me.” I pressed at his shoulders again. “Now, let me go.”
“Oh no, honey, no way in hell I’m gonna let you be pissed at me, wearin’ that cute nightie, your hair down and not chat with you anywhere but in my arms.”
Um…what?
“What?” I asked.
“You heard me,” he answered.
“I’m not wearing a nightie,” I reminded him. “I’m wearing a nightie and a shirt.”
“You could cover up that nightie with a snowsuit, sweetheart, but you in my living room wearin’ nothin’ but that nightie is burned on my brain in a way that I like a fuckuva lot. So all I’m gonna see is you in that fuckin’ nightie no matter what you put on over it.”
“That’s insane,” I snapped.
“You’re not a guy,” he replied.
“Okay, now that’s insane,” I returned.
“Maybe you don’t get just how cute that nightie is,” Mitch retorted.
Oh boy.
“Mitch –”
“Or just how good it fits you,” Mitch kept going.
Oh God.
“Mitch –”
“Or how fuckin’ great you look with your hair down.”
“Mitch!”
“Or how I gotta fight against goin’ hard whenever you slip outta your cocoon when you get pissed or you forget to stay shielded and that Mara Light shines out.”
That shut me up and it made my fingers curl into his shoulders as I stared, shocked, into his fathomless eyes.
“Yeah,” he murmured, his arm around my waist going tight. “Now, finally, I’m seein’ you get me.”
“I think we’re done talking now,” I whispered and we were. We were definitely done talking.
Of course, the truth of the matter was, I was done talking. Mitch was not and I knew this when his arm got tighter just as his hand at my scalp pulled me so close to his face I felt his breath on my lips.
“Since I have your attention, baby, and I see you beatin’ your retreat, I want you to take this with you when you slide back into that cocoon. Straight up, Mara, I want you in my bed. And when you’re in my bed, I’m gonna be in you. And while I’m movin’ inside you, I’m gonna make you come with your long, fuckin’ legs wrapped around my back, when my hands are finally on that fantastic fuckin’ ass of yours, your tongue’s in my mouth and you’re kissin’ me as only you can kiss me. I know you got a way of twistin’ shit so it’s fucked up in your brain so I’m hopin’ if I’m direct about just what I want from you, it might penetrate and you might keep it straight long enough to give us both what we’ve been wantin’ for a long, fuckin’ time.”
I was trying not to listen, trying not to let what he said penetrate but I was also failing.
What did he mean we both had been wanting for a long time?
“You with me?” he asked.
“Um…” I mumbled because I wasn’t sure I was about some of it but other parts I couldn’t not be with him and he grinned.
Then he muttered, “You’re with me.”
“I think –” I started and his fingers at my scalp gave me a squeeze.
“I don’t give a shit what you think, sweetheart, ‘cause by the time it passes your lips, it’ll probably be twisted and fucked up. But what I think is that we’re done here…for now. I take your point and you’re right. We’ll talk before anything important goes down with those kids. But you need to take my point that we won’t talk about it until they’ve both graduated from high school. Now, are you good with that?”
“You don’t give a shit what I think?” I asked softly.
“Not if it’s twisted and fucked up,” he replied. “Now, are you good with what I said?”
“But –”
“Mara, we got kids to get ready for school,” he reminded me. “Are you good with what I said?”
“I think –”
His hand left my hair to wrap around my shoulders, he gave me a squeeze and repeated, “Baby, are you good with what I said?”
“Uh…yeah. I’m good with what you said,” I agreed. “Or, at least, that last part.”