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The room disappeared, the people disappeared, until it might as well have just been him and me, alone in space, no gravity, no nothing. The only thing keeping me from floating away was the heat of his gaze on mine.
And that meant that whatever had just happened between us was completely meaningless. If only my racing heart believed that.
and some instinct I didn’t understand warned me to ignore them. Like if I turned around, everything would change. So I turned around. And saw her.
Some guys might call her fat. I’d beat up every fucking one of them. Because I didn’t care how she was labeled—to me, she was a stunning, gorgeous goddess. Period.
They didn’t fucking compare. Staring at her, seeing her stare back—it unlocked something inside of me. Something I hadn’t known existed. Something that, when opened, released an unfamiliar word: Mine.
If she wanted to flirt with someone, she could flirt with me. And if that jackass touched her, I was punching a hole through his head with my already clenched fist.
What would it be like, to matter so much to someone that caring for you was like muscle memory to them?
Because the minute someone knows who I am, they’ll do anything to please me because they want to use me, but you don’t. Because you checked your friend’s beer bottle without having to think about it. Because you seem to hate me, and it pisses me off but only makes me want you more.
And then when she moaned again and softened into my arms, lowering her arms to wrap around my waist, well. That was it. I was a motherfucking goner. The world shifted on its axis. Even fucking gravity disappeared. The people around us certainly disappeared. Just me and her and this raging satisfaction. Mine.
To feel like someone else saw me, and liked what they saw. To be wanted, so badly.
She was mine, and no one else in the whole fucking world got to talk to her that way. Only me.
I’d lost control of my anger for a second. But her voice alone, solid and strong, calmed me.
My little fuckdoll. Yes. My little sextoy. Yes. Mine. All mine. You hear me, Aviva? You’re fucking mine. Yes!
“You’re all those things, but mostly, you’re mine.”
“I hate how much I want you. How I can’t get you out of my head. How you’ve burrowed so deep inside my skin, I’m worried I’ll never get you out. I hate that when you do let me go, you’ll still haunt me forever, and I hate how much I’ll always wish you’d kept me.”
my relief, vision blurring until all I saw was her, just her, only her, would only see her for the rest of our goddamned lives, you hear me, Aviva? This is fucking it for you, for both of us, goddamnit what the fuck have you done to me—
—mine— I think she cried in response. You’re mine too, Jack…
“You’re okay, I’ve got you,” I murmured. “I’ve got you, Aviva. I’m here, princess, I’m here.”
This woman was amazing, and she was mine. What’s more, I was hers.
“Let me get this through that beautiful little head. If I find out you’ve flirted with another man, I will lock you up in my basement and throw away the goddamned key. And him? They’ll never find his body. Do you want that on your conscience, princess?”
This time, not in the past, but in Jack. Mine, his kisses said. Mine. And this time, I welcomed it. Mine, my kiss said back. Yours, his agreed. Little fury, he’d called me. And I liked it.
“It’s okay, Jack. You’re okay,” she murmured, and I held onto her words—to her—like a lifeline.
Every other time, he’d chased me, caught me, brought me back. But this time he didn’t. And that hurt most of all.
“You see, don’t you,” he murmured. “I’m not letting you go, little fury. I don’t care how much I hurt you in the past, I don’t care if it hurts in the future. I. Am. Not. Letting. You. Go. Do you hear me?”
“No, baby. No. I’m yours as much as you’re mine. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I called you manipulative. I’m sorry I hurt you, I’m sorry I never gave you a choice, I’m sorry I made you feel like all you were good for was sex. You’re so much more than that to me, little fury. You’re everything. Let me show you.”
“Don’t argue with me, Aviva. Don’t you dare argue with me. Don’t you take this from me. Don’t you take you from me. I won’t fucking let you. Hear me, little fury. There is nowhere in this world you can hide that I won’t find you, nowhere you can go that I won’t follow. I will chase you down and bring you back. Every. Single. Time. So stop fucking fighting me.”
He interrupted me, whispering his next words brokenly into my ear. “Because believe me, I fucking hate how much I love you.”
“I love you, little fury. So much, I’d cheat death, steal you—and lie, if it meant keeping you.”
I swallowed. “I love you, Jack Feldman. And I’d cheat, steal, and lie to keep you, too.”
“Do not tell me what to do when it comes to her,”
“Do not tell me what to do when it comes to him.”
This woman. My heart—that organ I was sure had died when I was a kid—beat steadily in my chest, so fucking content with the world. With her. Aviva was brave, loyal—and finally her loyalty was mine, the way I’d craved since I’d first gotten to know her.
he stared at me like I was something precious and priceless, something deserving of worship, like I was a gift he’d never expected but wasn’t giving back.
