Mine

by Clio Evans

“Rich,” Dan finished. “Talented. Smart. Powerful. And much better off without Jeff. Fuck that guy.”

“What the fuck is wrong with me?” she whispered. “Whatever it is, it’s wrong with me too.”

“I want you. I want to see whatever this is. But, I need to hear the words, Pepper.”

It was the kind of darkness I couldn’t turn away from, because I had that darkness, too.

Salt had the voice of the devil. And I really wanted to be a good little sinner.

“You’re a goddamn incubus,” I growled. “Your music made me want to come in front of god and everyone. It made me want to lose everything. It was dangerous.”

“Yes,” he said earnestly. “All the time. But I don’t ask to go home with them. In fact, I don’t do shit like this at all. I also don’t cage women against walls in clubs or call them a good girl without their consent.”

I needed days with her, not one night. It wouldn’t be enough.

“When you wake up, I’ll be gone,” he said softly. And that was the problem. I didn’t want him to go.

I wanted her. Just her.

Beautiful, infuriating, addicting Pepper.

“Just seeing you standing there has made me so fucking hard, I feel like I could come at any moment. You’re beautiful. Absolutely fucking gorgeous. I want you to take off your bra and panties.”

I want to own your music.” And I want to own your heart.

“But I want you to know that I want you. I want to be with you.”

“Sex and intimacy don’t go hand in hand for me all of the time. I can spank someone and not think anything of it the next day. But one kiss with you and I feel like I’m losing my mind. The last week without you was torture.”

I’d spend the rest of my life touching her, worshiping her, and reminding her that she was mine.

“I’ve never wanted someone the way I want you, Pepper. I’ve never needed someone this way. I don’t care what they say about us. I don’t care what your ex-husband thinks. Stand back up.”

“Fuck,” he grunted. “You’re never leaving me. I’ll never let you go. They’ll never stop me from having you. I don’t care that you’re older than me. I don’t care that we’re from different worlds. I just—” thrust “—don’t—” thrust “—care.”

“The way you looked at me…” “Is the way I’ll always look at you. And I’m not sorry for that.” He kissed my forehead gently. “Let’s go home.”

Regardless of what happened, I wanted to be his.

“Who am I?” I asked. “Mine,” she whispered. “And who are you?” “Yours,”

“You make me happy.” I pinched one of the bruises, drawing a squeal from her.

“I will never leave you, Pepper. I told you that you're safe with me. Don't you remember that?”

This was my church. This was where I’d kneel. His eyes were stained glass windows, his body a temple, and he was a god I wanted to worship. A kinder god than the one I’d been raised to love.

“I love you too,” I whispered. “I love you, Pepper.”

“Yes,” he whispered. “I’m more sure of this than anything else, Pepper. My music is yours.” “And my heart is yours.”