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I'm in absolute shock when his blue irises lock on mine and he gives me that sexual smirk from the night we met at this very bar. And holy shit, at this moment, I realize I'm done for. Even the idea of someone else holds no appeal, because all I can think about is having that smirk aimed at me, paired with the lust-filled gaze currently written all over his face.
Whatever it might be and no matter how insane it might sound, I still understand Kaede’s pain. Because it’s exactly how I feel when I think about losing Hale.
"What can I say, Hale? I love to live up to my title as a disappointment."
I’m not a possessive person, not usually. It’s not something intrinsically built into my DNA. Yet somehow, I find myself wanting to rip Jesse’s cock off every second it’s in that wicked mouth of Roman’s.
I want him to see this isn’t who he is, nor who he has to be. I hate him so much for all this.
Everything comes back to him, doesn’t it?
"This game between us is evolving, baby. It's only fair you taste the fucking consequences."
His cobalt glare, radiating palpable amounts of hatred, is the only thing that makes me feel more human again.
"How's that song go? 'He tastes like you but sweeter', yeah?"
Little does he know, he's no longer the puppet master. I’m done playing by the rules, done letting him pull the strings with this weird thing between us.
"I don't fucking bottom." "And I don't fucking share."
Because baby, as much as I let you control me, I will not be made into a fool."
And here I thought sassy Hale was just as sexy as dommy Hale. Insecure Hale, though? Timid and unsure Hale? He takes the motherfucking cake.
The fucker has managed to worm his way in after melting some of my icy exterior, even when I didn’t want to get close to him. It’s surprising as hell that he succeeded, but somehow, it makes sense. Probably because the two of us are both shattered beyond belief, just sitting here while we cut each other with our jaded, raw edges.
"Shouldn't you know by now? I'm full of surprises."
"What are you so afraid of?" You. Everything about you terrifies me.
The sheer vulnerability on his face, it guts something inside me. Something I thought died long ago. It makes me want to do whatever it takes to hang the damn moon and stars just to see the light in his eyes again.
"I don't even know how to begin to give you what you want or need." "You act like I need grand gestures and flowers and shit. All I really want is for you to trust me with who you are. All of you."
"Walls are built for a reason, Rome. To be impenetrable. To keep people out." To keep what's inside safe. His eyes search mine again, a sad smile in them. "Good thing I know how to climb."
"Hi," I murmur, immediately feeling like a damn idiot. Mostly because I’m sure a disgustingly sick look is plastered on my damn face. One with hearts in the eyes that has a person going out to buy fucking chocolates and flowers and diamonds and shit.
"What was it you said you needed?" I finally manage to ask. "To see you."
"What’s wrong?" "Babe?" I ask. He smirks, humor dancing in his cobalt blues. "Well, baby is your thing so…" I roll my eyes, grabbing the documents he asked for and tossing them in his lap haphazardly. "Here you go, baby."
The thought alone makes it so fucking wrong. Because we’re wrong, he and I. Complete opposites. Fire and ice. He’s said as much ever since the night with Jesse.
"You're not your mistakes, Rome."
"Are you slut-shaming me again, Hale Calloway?" "Must I remind you, you're the one who called me a prostitute the night we met."
"I'm terrified…because I wish I was the one who killed them for you."
"You would kill someone for me?" I bite the inside of my cheek and nod again. "It's so fucking stupid. But I’m starting to see I’d do...a lot for you."
"Goddamnit, I knew you were a mistake the moment I saw you across the bar at Harry's. But I didn't care. I've never been one to shy away from getting what I want. And that night, I wanted you. I wanted you then, and I still want you now."
"Yeah, Rome. You are. One of the few I've ever made. By far the best. Always my favorite. You're the one mistake I want to keep making over and over again, praying I never learn my lesson."
My every waking thought and desire is aimed at him. About him. For him. With him. It surrounds him to the point where...shit, it might be an obsession. Even if it was, I wouldn't care. But it’s not. I know it’s not, because I’ve felt obsession before. It’s what Rain became to me, after I was forced to leave him behind, constantly comparing anyone and anything to him.
So before I knew what love was, I thought he was the love of my life.
Because I see now, when it mattered most? When I could’ve really stood a chance? I didn’t have one at all. Because Rain was never going to be mine. This though? It’s just different.
I feel more myself than I have in years. More understood than ever before. Accepted for who I am, faults and all. And I think...that’s what I’ve wanted, more than anything else. It’s something I never could’ve gotten from Rain. Mostly because I didn’t know it’s what I’ve desperately needed until right now. With Hale.
Dear God, this man is going to be the death of me.
“Everyone? And here I thought you might be taking me here because I’m special.” Oh, you are, baby. You have no fucking idea how much.
My stomach churns a few seconds later when I realize I may or may not have inadvertently told him I love him. Which...fuck, I do. I fucking do.
Who am I kidding? I've been lost in his eyes since the moment I first saw him.
“Hale?” I ask, looking down at the document in front of me. “Your middle name doesn't start with E, does it?” “No, it’s Tristan.” My head rises to meet his gaze as he asks, “Why? What’s yours?” “Francis, but that’s not why I’m asking,” I reply quickly as I slide the paper over the table to him, letting him see what I just found. “That’s signed by an H E Calloway.”
“I’m starting to think there isn’t a thing in this world I wouldn’t do for you.”
"Don't lie to me, Hale. You're freaking out." Since when did he have the capability to crawl into my brain and read me like a book?
If he knew about all the things I’m holding on to, he wouldn't even be in this room—in this bed—with me. He wouldn't have trusted me enough to let me in on his plans. Or bring me here, to his family home where he grew up. Where all the secrets of who he is and where he comes from are kept.
I'm sick of being cold when all I want is to be lit on fire by him. With him.
"I never knew I had the power to melt ice with a single touch," he whispers against my lips, reverence and awe in his voice. "Melt. Shatter," I tell him, the pain in my chest growing to nearly insurmountable now. "Completely obliterate."
"Let me fucking worship you, Hale." He takes my bottom lip between his teeth and tugs, pressing his hips forward. "Just let go."
I think that's what I love about him the most, the way he looks at me. Like I mean something. Like this—us—means something.
Because as the walls come tumbling down, I feel myself making the fall with them. The fall I never thought I'd take for anyone.
"I had no idea. Tell me more about this thing you speak of. Cuddling, was it?" "Yeah, that's it." He chuckles, threading my fingers through his and pulling our hands up to his chest. "It's this rare phenomenon that happens. Usually when two people who like each other are about to go to sleep or watch a movie. This position in particular is called spooning. Pretty cool, right?"
"I want you against me," I whisper. "I want to touch you. Always. Constantly. I want your skin on mine, my lips glued to yours. And I don't give a shit what I'd have to give up to make that happen."
"You’re everything, Hale. Because you're good and fair and kind, even when you don't think you are. Because when I look at you? I see the kind of person worthy of my time and attention, knowing you would never bother to accept it unless you thought it was earned." He shakes his head slowly, his gaze finally meeting mine. "And you do. You have. You are. Everyone else only ever wants something from me. The money, the power, the connections. The status. No one ever wants me. Until you."
"It's me. I don't think you see me. Not entirely." "I only can if you let me, baby.” His fingers dance along the scar again. The piece of me I’ve given him. “You have to let me."
