Page 104 of Heavy
“I’ve always held my anger and resentment in my stomach, like a black hole slowly opening, ready to swallow me. Since meeting you, I’m feeling a weight on my chest I’ve not experienced.”
My eyes widen as I feel them hollow, sinking inward. “Oh…”
“I’ll only ever ask you to be honest with me. I can’t be lied to. I may demand you to beg for me, run, and all the other shit our relationship comes with, but you can defy those to get a rise out of me.” I gasp when his hand grabs my throat and pulls me close to him. “Do not lie to me. You understand?”
“Yes,” I say quickly.
“That will hurt worse than you shooting me in the head. That pain would be temporary.” The sensation of his thumb drawing along my jawline has me shivering. It comes to my lips, dragging them downward as he leans in and presses his mouth against mine.
“One day you’ll regret ever touching me,” he says before deepening our kiss, his tongue invading and flicking against mine.
He doesn’t understand how unhealthy my own obsession with him is, so it may be him that regrets allowing me to.
It’s been a week, and I haven’t regretted anything. I ended up asking my boss for some vacation and hated lying about needing a mental health break. It was difficult to concentrate. Any time I’d have to log into work, it wouldn’t be but ten minutes before I was running back to bed with mystep-uncle.
Alright, that’s the last reference to that, I swear it. He is myboyfriend.
It’s the following Sunday evening, and the thought of having to go back to my normalcy doesn’t really sit high on my list of wants.
“Do you know when you go quiet…” Ronan breaks the silence we’ve been sitting in. “You hum a little?”
I look up at him then. He sits with me between his spread legs, shirtless, and taking a brush to my hair. We both just got out of the shower after he decided it was his turn to paint all over me, and things got pretty messy.
“I do not.” I’m enjoying the feeling of someone else doing my hair. It takes a lot of effort to keep it maintained, but I’ll never complain. Ronan loves it, and that makes me happy.
“You do.”
“Don’t.” I swear I’ve never heard myself hum before.
The sound of the brush dropping onto the couch has me frowning, but I don’t turn back to look at him with my scowl. He alwayscomments on it.
“My pouty baby girl.”
“It’s like your throat does it when you exhale through your nose. Listen.”
I hold my breath, refusing to allow him to be right.
His hands move to the nape of my neck, gathering my hair in one hand. The sensation of it being twisted has me curious about what he’s doing. He doesn’t say anything—just presses a finger to the very back of my head, forcing me to look straight down.
I stop breathing, but for a completely different reason. Is he... braiding my hair?
A soft noise comes from my throat as I let out a breath.
“What’re you doing?” I try to distract him with a question.
“So cute.” He chuckles, that low one that vibrates straight down to my thighs. “But I prefer your screams and gasps.”
Then he begins to section my hair.
“There’s absolutely no way you know how to braid.” My voice is full of shock, laced with skepticism.
“Why?”
“Why the hell would you know? You said you only had a brother.”
When he tugs my head back with the grip on my hair, I gasp. He looks down, directly into my eyes. “It’s not that difficult. I literally YouTubed it, Cal.”
Heat rises to my cheeks. “W-Why would you want to learn how to do it?”
