Page 77 of Real's Love

Her voice was soft, her smile encouraging. I never needed encouragement before. I made up my mind about what I was going to do and did it, no matter what anyone thought. But I appreciated that little smile. I nodded at her as I walked toward the hallway. It was stupid, reckless. I should be watching Prime and his people. I should be right by the door, able to get to Real quickly or cover him if shit was a setup. I had to pray it wasn't. Because when I stepped over the threshold and into that kitchen, I ignored all the reasons I had come... now, there was only one reason I was here.

She didn't hear me, and I spotted the Air Pods in her diamond-adorned ears. I watched her from the doorway as she reached into the huge stainless-steel refrigerator and cabinets, grabbing what she needed and humming along with her music.

Baby girl was gorgeous. Already, I had her features memorized. Sandy brown hair in a ponytail, light brown doe eyes and skin dotted with freckles, a little bridge-less, pierced nose, and full lips I was going to enjoy kissing and sucking. I'd be doing that soon because I knew she was mine. I had never felt this instant attraction, awareness, possessiveness, but I didn't question it. Theory was for me.

I heard her sharp gasp, and my eyes snapped from her full breasts and the curve of her hips to her gaze. She'd spotted me. My shorty looked scared but resolved to face me. She clutched a bag of shredded cheese to her chest, staring as I approached her.

"Wh-what... the bathroom is up the hall," she tried, her voice shaky.

"I'on want the bathroom," I said.

She swallowed hard. "What... what do you want?"

We both knew the answer to that, but I didn't think she was ready to hear it.

"Water," I said. "I want some water."

She set the cheese on the center island, giving me one last nervous look before heading back to the cabinets. She took down a glass, rinsed it, and walked to the refrigerator.

I couldn't help it. I had to get closer. I eased behind her, happy just to stand there like a sick ass simp. She smelled like cocoa butter and vanilla, and I felt my dick swell in response. If I moved any closer, it'd be resting on the curve of her round ass.Fuck!I was moving, thinking too fast. I realized it again when she turned around and almost dropped the ice-filled glass and bottle of water. I caught them and set them on the counter when I realized how shallow her breathing was getting. She looked terrified and that broke the heart I'd just realized I had. For the first time in a long time, I regretted the fucking scars, hated how an enemy I hadn't even known decided to make an example of my face.

"P-please," she whimpered as she bent forward, trying to catch her breath.

Panic attack.I reached for her, wanting to help her, to do something, especially since the shit was my fault, but she held out one arm like she was trying to keep me away. I grabbed her hand, trying to keep my touch soft.

"Shorty, I need you to calm down and breathe with me," I told her, my voice quiet and steady.

I placed her palm against my chest, ignoring the sudden sizzle, the spark that ignited when I felt her. I breathed in and out deeply. At first, all I could hear were her anxious breaths and soft whimpers. Then, her hand pressed against me more tightly, and her breathing slowed.

"That's it, baby, deep breaths," I coached.

She nodded once, inhaling and exhaling to my rhythm until our breaths matched. The pulse in her throat told me that our heartbeats did, too.

I liked that. A lot.

Before...the incident, my family had teased me about my mismatched height and ego. Saying I was five-foot-three was a stretch, but you couldn't tell me anything. I walked around like I was seven feet tall, pretty and confident and ready to take on the world. Now, I felt how small I was, especially since I couldn't really eat anymore and was losing my thick body. And especially when men like this one standing in my grandmother's kitchen were around. He was easily over six-and-a-half feet tall and had to be at least 250 pounds of solid muscle. Most people would be intimidated by the brutal scarring on the left side of his face, angry slashes that started near his hairline, marked his cheek, and nicked his upper lip. But to me, he was still handsome, fair-skinned with a stormy gray gaze and lips that would've made me want to kiss him in my past life. His scars didn't scare me—I had learned that they often said more about the evil of the person who did the scarring than the person scarred.

It was his size that fucked with me, even as it attracted me. I knew, somehow, that this was a man who had hurt people. This was a man who could hurt me, who could hold me down and destroy me as easily as he could swat a fly.

"Theory," he whispered.

I snapped out of my thoughts to glare at him.

"How you know my name?" I demanded.

"Pip told me when she said I could come back here for water."

I frowned. Pip had been crazy protective over me sincethe incident. She didn't trust anyone who wasn't family around me. But she told this man my name and sent him to me? She had a feeling about something. I still wasn't ready to give in.

"Theory," he repeated, covering my hand that still rested on his chest.

His big hand swallowed mine, emphasizing the difference in our sizes again, but his touch felt so warm, so unexpectedly right, that even as I tried to make myself yank away, I couldn't.

"What?" I mumbled instead.

"You scared of me?" he asked hoarsely.

"Yes."

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