Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 141428 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 707(@200wpm)___ 566(@250wpm)___ 471(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 141428 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 707(@200wpm)___ 566(@250wpm)___ 471(@300wpm)
She eyed him. He was going red. She’d never seen him look quite this . . . upset. And she couldn’t imagine him doing this for just anyone.
“Well, no, not for just anyone,” she said.
“Am I taking care of you? Feeding you? Bathing you? Are you my Little girl?”
“Well, yes, and that’s all very kind⎯”
“Kind?” he yelled. “Kind?”
“I don’t understand why you’re getting so⎯”
“Do you sleep in my bed?” he cut her off.
She could feel herself going bright red. “Yes, but that’s because you’ve only got one bed and you won’t let me sleep on the sofa.”
“Damn fucking right you won’t be sleeping on the sofa! My woman doesn’t sleep on a fucking sofa! She doesn’t stay anywhere else but under my fucking roof, whether she’s in danger or not. She eats the food I provide for her, under the roof I provide for her, in my fucking bed. And she has everything she fucking wants because I give it to her because she’s my fucking woman.”
He was rambling. Hayes never rambled. And she could barely keep up with what he was saying.
“Oh, and I am not fucking kind!” he added.
“Yes, you are,” she said, feeling tears well. This was all too much for her to take. “You’re the kindest, sweetest man I’ve ever met.”
“You want a spanking, you only have to ask for one, you know.”
“I don’t want a spanking! I want you to make sense.”
“Yeah? How about this, then? I love you, Devi Dawson. Once you’re no longer in danger, you are going nowhere. Once you’re feeling better, you are going nowhere. Because you belong to me. You. Are. Mine.”
She should probably protest his possessive statement. But belonging to him was her biggest wish come true. It was something she’d never thought would happen.
“You love me? How is that possible?” she whispered in wonder.
“I don’t like that you sound so amazed by that. You are lovable, Devi. You should know that. But I’ll tell you every day if I need to, because I know your shithead of a father likely never did.”
Her dad tell her that he loved her? Nope, that was laughable. But that wasn’t the big issue here.
“I didn’t think that you could ever love anyone but May,” she said. It was weird. She thought she would be happy with anything he could give her. Even if he could only feel attracted to her without loving her, she’d thought that would be enough.
But now there was a part of her that said it wasn’t enough.
“I can’t be second place,” she confessed. “I’m sorry, I just can’t.”
Perhaps she should have been grateful for anything. It was more than anyone else had ever offered her. It was more than she had ever expected.
A few weeks ago, she might have leapt on any sort of attention he wanted to give her.
But now . . .
“And nor should you,” he told her fiercely. “My Devi will never come second place. I love you.”
Devi sucked in a breath, letting out a small sob.
“You know me by now. I’m not a guy who says things he doesn’t mean.” Hayes stared at her seriously, then he took her good hand in his. “Losing May, well, it broke me.”
“I know it did.”
He glanced up at her.
“When I first met you, before I knew your name, I called you Mr. Tragic Eyes.”
He grimaced. “Mr. Tragic Eyes? Jesus. You couldn’t have called me Sexy Eyes? Or Hot Eyes?”
“Nope. Sorry. Mr. Tragic Eyes because you looked so sad. And when you told me about May, well, it was clear why you were so sad and how much you loved her. I’m not . . . well, I guess it might have been obvious that I’m . . . interested in you. I kept staring at you and tripping over things. Which I never do.”
“Uh-huh.” He gave her a skeptical look.
Sheesh. She very rarely tripped. “I am the epitome of beauty and grace.”
“Beauty, yes,” he said gruffly. “Grace, not so much.”
She ignored the latter part of that, her brain fixating on the beauty part.
“You think I’m beautiful.”
“I do,” he told her firmly. “Thought I’d already made that obvious. I think you’re gorgeous and sweet and I want you to be mine.”
Could she saddle him with her, though? He deserved more. Better. Someone who wasn’t broken, who wasn’t scarred and downtrodden.
Who hadn’t had life beaten out of her.
Because that’s what it felt like . . . it was like she’d been a full, blown-up balloon and now she was deflating.
Bit by bit all of the air was slipping out.
Soon, there’d be nothing left.
Just a wrinkly piece of rubber.
“Hey, where did you go? What are you thinking?” he asked her.
“That I’m a wrinkly piece of rubber.”
“Um. Is that a metaphor for something?” He rubbed his forehead.
“I just . . . I’m used up,” she explained to him. “I’m so tired. There’s nothing . . . I don’t think there’s anything left.”