Page 53 of Owned

“You used to eat with us,” Rowan said, seemingly plucking the thought right out of my head, the little witch.

“True,” I admitted. “But being a husband is different to being a random fuck buddy.”

“Is that what you usually are? A random fuck buddy?”

“Is this a roundabout way of asking me about my conquests, beauty? You want a number?”

“No, thank you.” Again I could hear that prim note in her voice. “I don’t think my tiny brain could cope with such a staggering figure.”

“I’ve half a mind to tell you anyway, just because you said no.”

She sniffed. “It’s not something to be proud of, Atlas.”

Her audacity delighted me. “Oh my, is the little virgin judging me? Or is jealousy the issue?”

She shrugged. “Sleeping around just seems like a desperate bid for attention.”

For some reason that little barb slid beneath my skin and stuck there. “And you would know, based on your wide experience with sleeping around?” I asked.

“No, I just don’t think it makes you happy. I mean, look at Mom. It never made her happy.”

“Cait could never keep her emotions out of it,” I said. “She was looking for a relationship and with all the wrong men.”

Rowan’s blue gaze flicked upwards at me. “Or maybe all the men were just assholes.”

“Does that include me?”

“Yes,” she said without a blink, finishing up her piece of bread. “When you left she went to her bedroom and stayed in it for a week.”

“Cait wanted someone to look after her,” I said — that at least was true. “It wasn’t about me in particular.”

“Is that something you tell yourself to make yourself feel better?”

Jesus. She seemed to know exactly which button to push to get a rise out of me, which meant I was going to have to try harder not to let her get under my skin.

“Put your claws away, beauty” I said mildly enough, reaching for another piece of bread and putting some cheese on it for her this time. “Or at least tell me why you keep sharpening them on me.”

“I’m not sharpening?—”

“What’s the issue? Is it about the whole not wanting to be dependent on anyone? Proving to me you’re not a pushover?”

She frowned as she reached for the piece of bread, but I held it out of her reach. “Uh huh, you’re not getting this until you tell me the truth.”

This time she rolled her eyes exactly the way she used to back when she was a teenager and I’d told her to empty the dishwasher. “Okay, well you told me you wouldn’t just take an inch, you’d take everything,” she said irritatedly. “So I just want you to know that you can’t take everything.”

I stared at her, half-amused by her continual pushing, half impatient with it. “Little girl,” I murmured. “You can say what you like, but the fact is, I will. And you’ll let me.”

She snorted. “Like hell I will.”

I studied her face a moment. “I already know you’re strong, beauty, I told you that. I knew it back when you were a kid. You don’t need to keep fighting me in order to prove it. You’ve actually got nothing to prove to me at all.”

There was a small silence and then she glanced away. “Sorry,” she muttered. “This is all new for me. Especially being with you like…this.”

“You don’t need to apologize, I know this is new for you. You’re not used to being taken care of, either, which is not a comment on your ability to take of yourself, okay?” She looked up at me then, her blue-violet gaze searching, so I added, “I will never lie to you, beauty. Everything I tell you is the truth.”

Her gaze lingered for a moment then she sighed. “Okay,” she said at last, reluctantly.

“But now you need to learn how to be taken care of, hmmm? Because as your husband, that’s my job.”

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