I need to find peace.
I need to find my happy place.
But what if this is my happy place?
What if he is my peace?
I shake my head at myself in the mirror.
Nope. Nuh uh. I refuse to believe that a man who cut someone else’s fingers off without breaking a sweat is the man for me.
Clark was the kind of man for me until he decided to leave me hanging and take off to save his own ass. Before that, he was sweet, kind, caring to an extent, and he never made me doubt being with him.
Really, Kat? You’re gonna pick that loser as someone you want to be with? He ran out on you, and now you have a man who would literally kill for you, who makes you scream his name as he makes you come, who looks at you with pure fire in his eyes, and you wanna try and justify Clark as the man of your dreams?
“Fuck off,” I tell my subconscious.
My mind is a motherfucking mess, and now I have to walk back out there and act like Nate doesn’t affect me.
I don’t want him to affect me, but I do.
I don’t want him to want me, but I do.
I don’t want to fall in love with him, but I fear that I will.
Jesus.
“Come on, Kat, get it together,” I whisper to myself as I take one last look in the mirror, fix myself with some steely determination and grab the robe off the back of the bathroom door, putting it on and wrapping it tight––like the walls around my heart.
With a deep breath, I open the door and my eyes lock on the monster in my bed, and fuck if my steely determination doesn’t waver.
He’s glorious. Magnificent.
He’s looking right at me, his eyes blazing.
Shit.
Those eyes are pools of green that I could get lost in and forget my own fucking name. And this is the problem. He trapped me, made me marry him, told me I would die if I didn’t, and now he’s making me want to fall for him. I can’t. I won’t. I…
“Nate,” I hear a woman call out, and my eyes widen at the sudden intrusion… and the female voice.
“Oh fucking hell,” he says as he drops his head back on the pillow with a sigh before he sits up and rakes his hands through his hair. Christ, the definition of sexy bedhead was surely made up by him because oh my lord, my mouth just watered ever-so-slightly.
He gets up and pulls on his joggers from last night. Grey joggers. Always had a thing for a man in grey joggers, and I’m so fucked it’s unreal.
He prowls over to me, a predatory look in his gaze which has my pussy waking up and hoping for round… three? Four?
He stops in front of me, and I have to tilt my head to look at him. He brings his hand to my face, his fingers cupping my chin and then grabbing my cheeks as he pushes me back against the wall.
“You may want to get dressed because we clearly have company,” he growls out before he moves his mouth to ear and whispers, “But stay out of your head, Kat, because I can already see the doubts swirling around.”
He moves back until his eyes are level with mine. “And you are mine. No question. No doubt.”
He places a light kiss on the end of my nose and then moves away from me, walking over to the door and opening it before pausing and looking back at me over his shoulder.
“And I always get what I want,” he finishes before he disappears and shuts the door behind him.
I let out the breath that I had been holding and try to calm down my racing heart.
