Play with the Phantom (Midnight, #2)

by Amanda Richardson

“You think this hasn’t been real all along?” he asks, voice rough. “I’ve been dying for you for over a year, angel. I’ve built my fucking world around the idea of you. That’s real.” I try to breathe, but it feels like there’s no air left in the room. He leans down, his forehead resting against mine. “You’re here now. That’s all I need.” Then, his tone shifts, tender and uncharacteristically hesitant. “And just so you know… I don’t expect anything from you. I know what your house means to you, what it meant to move into a space that belonged to your grandmother.” My eyes sting, and before I realize what I’m doing, I blurt out the first thing that comes to mind. “She was the first person who made me feel like I didn’t have to earn love. She made it feel like home no matter what was going on outside the walls.” His hand flexes on the nape of my neck. “I get it. That house is part of who you are. I’d never ask you to give that up.” I blink fast, trying to clear the emotion clouding my vision. “But I’d follow you anywhere, Ari,” he murmurs. “Anywhere. I’d live in a one-bedroom apartment with cockroaches and no fucking hot water if it meant I got to wake up next to you.” I let out a shaky breath, and he leans in, brushing his lips against mine. “I’m not trying to trap you,” he whispers. “I’m trying to show you you’re free. As long as you’ll let me worship you wherever that freedom takes you.”