Page 95 of Breaking His Law

She finally comes to a standstill, shoves her fingertip into her mouth then bites her nail nervously, her eyes rapidly bounce about like a deer caught in headlights before they land on me.

I give her a little reassurance, a buffer, so to speak. “Keep the apartment, and I’ll pay your mortgage loan, just move in with me, as a trial for a few months, to see how we get on.” If she says yes to moving in with me, I’m never letting her leave.

“A trial period?”

“Yes. But if we have an argument, you can’t run back to your old apartment. We stay up all night until we work it out.”

She cocks her head to the side as if bewildered.

She takes too long to answer. Her silence is giving me anxiety, my mouth drier than a sponge.

“And this isn’t a big deal,” I lie and then try dumbing it down. “You practically live at my place already and it would make it easier for us to travel to work together. It makes sense.”

“Easier?” she asks, looking petrified.

Fuck, maybe I blew it.

“Yeah, and it’s not like you’re my girlfriend or anything. We don’t have a label for us, Arianna. The sex we have is fucking incredible. And it’s not like you’re catching feelings for me or anything.” She doesn’t disagree with me, which stings. “It’s just easier,” I say, annoyed because everything I just said is a complete fucking lie.

I know how I feel.

“Okay,” she finally responds.

“Okay?” My chest swells with pride as satisfaction washes over me.

I move toward her and pull her close to me, holding her with firm possession. “You won’t regret it,” I murmur, my voice low in tone.

My life is suddenly starting to feel like it makes sense and I’m going to do everything in my power to keep her safe and happy. If I thought she was mine before, she damn sure is mine now. This is real.

“I’m going to look after you so good, baby.” A sense of excitement overwhelms me, and I kiss her deeply, letting her know she’s mine and I’m hers.

“Are you sure about this?” Her lips twitch nervously against mine, her voice a bit too timid, which unsettles my buoyant mood.

In my mind, nothing changes. She stays with me five nights out of seven and the other two I spend at hers.

What’s with the hesitation?

“I’m certain. Organize a moving company for next week,” I say, trying to reassure her.

“That soon?” She sounds almost disbelieving, her eyes wide as if she’s panicked.

“And remodel my apartment in any style you want. I like yours.”

Her brows dip and the space between them thickens. “Really?”

This is a much bigger step for her than I first thought.

“Make mine homier.” I try again to convince her.

“Because yours is too fuck-pad-like at the moment.”

“What the hell does ‘fuck-pad-like’mean?” A low chuckle makes my chest rumble, my nerves now at about ten on the scale of vulnerability. I’ve never wanted to share my life with anyone.

“Your décor is like a one-night stand; it doesn’t mean anything and has no significance.”

“Jesus.” That’s fucking brutal. “Well,ourone-night stand turned into something.” I go to correct myself. “I mean, turned into the best sex of my life.” Which makes her grimace for a fleeting moment and I wish I had the balls to admit to her that I have real feelings for her without scaring her off.

She’s the most significant person in my life, my priority, but I get the feeling if I tell her that she’ll bolt like a bull out of its pen.

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