Crazy Love by MINK

5

Slade

“You’re freaking her out,” Walter calls from down the hall.

I ignore him.

“I’m going to need you to put me down.” Bunny swallows hard.

“Why?”

“Because …” Her brows furrow. “Because I … Because I need to think, and we need to talk. And I can’t think with your hands on my butt.”

“Thinking is overrated.” I glance at her lips.

She shakes her head. “Not when I wake up in a strange bed, in someone else’s shirt—”

“My shirt.” I squeeze her ass again. It feels so perfect in my hands. I’ve been waiting so long to get close to her like this. We’re meant to be. I just have to prove it to her. That’s what this whole thing is about. Making sure she knows I will always be here for her, no matter what.

“Your shirt. Yes. I just need to think. Please?”

Well, fuck, when she asks like that, I can’t say no. Grudgingly, I set her on her feet.

She scoots out from between me and the door. “I’m going to need you to unlock this.” She points at the metal bar along the top.

“Sorry, Bunny, I can’t do that.”

She edges away from me. “Ted—”

“That’s not my name. Not my real name.”

That stops her in her tracks. “What?”

“My real name is Slade. I had to change it a while back.” I don’t need to get into all those details right now, especially since she already looks like she wants to bolt.

“You aren’t Ted?”

“No.”

She backs away. “You’ve been lying to me? About your name, about—” She looks around, her eyes starting to widen even more. “About having a mansion and what else? Why am I here? Are you going to hurt me or something?”

“Never.” I take a step toward her.

“Stay back!” She holds out a hand.

I can hear Walter laughing. “Classic. This is really going swimmingly.”

“Shut it!”

“What?” She jumps back at my gruff tone.

“Not you, Bunny.” Jeez, Walter’s right. I’m fucking all this up.

“Then who?” She looks down the hall. “Are there other women here?”

“What? Not a chance.” I shake my head at her odd question. “There’s only you and me.”

“Why? What are you going to do to me?” I swear her heart is beating a mile a minute, her body trembling.

“Bunny, please. Calm down.”

“Calm down?” Her voice is high, strained. “How can I calm down when I’m locked in a mansion with a liar?”

I’m losing her, losing control of the entire situation. Why did I think this would go differently? I don’t know, but I can’t change it, and I can’t let her go anywhere until she realizes I’d never hurt her.

“Bunny, I know this seems like a lot. But I promise you, I would never hurt you. Never. You are safe here with me.”

“I’m safe in my house,” she counters.

“Because I’m right next door.” And I watch every move you make.

“Why are you doing this?” She sniffles. Then she sniffs the air. Her stomach growls. “That smells like … Is that chicken piccata?”

I start. Shit, I’d completely forgotten about the sauce when I found Bunny awake. “Hang on.” I turn and dash down the hall, then hang a hard right past the log staircase and through the door into the kitchen.

The sauce is almost browned, and I want to keep it a honey color. That’s the way Bunny prefers her favorite meal. Without thinking, I reach for the pan and take it off the heat, burning my hand in the process. But I saved the sauce. It’s not too far gone.

“Shit.” I shake my hand out, then flip on the cold water and hold it under it.

I feel the moment Bunny walks into the kitchen. The air changes, becomes charged with an invisible connection between us. I’ve always felt it. I wonder if she can sense it, too.

“That smells so good.” She glances at the crispy chicken cutlets I have arranged on a draining rack. “Fried golden. And the sauce—” She licks her lips, then turns her gaze to me. “What happened?”

“Nothing.” I shrug.

She walks over, tentative at first. When she gets close, she peeks at my hand. “Oh no.”

“Just a little burn.”

“That’s not little. When the skin gets all shiny like that, it’s going to blister.” She frowns. “Do you have a first-aid kit?”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll be—”

“Look, Slade or whatever your name is.” She stomps her bare foot on the wood floor. “If you’re going to keep me here like I’m some sort of prisoner, the least you can do is cooperate with me when I’m trying to be nice.”

Does she have any clue how fucking hot she is when she takes that no-nonsense tone? I could cream in my jeans just listening to her, looking at her.

“Let her help you, you dope.” Walter jumps onto the counter and eyes the fried chicken.

“Down,” I growl at him.

He smirks and flops onto his side, then starts licking his paw. Asshole.

I turn back to Bunny. “There’s some stuff in the pantry. Bottom shelf in the back.”

“Okay. I’ll get it.” She spins. “Wait. Where’s the pantry?”

I turn the water off. The burn starts to, well, burn, so I flip it back on again and stay put. “French doors to the left.”

“Oh.” She hurries over into the pantry, returning quickly with a little white box with a red cross on it. “I’m not much for triage, but I’ll do what I can.”

Flipping the water off again, I let my palm burn as I dry it with a paper towel. “You’re not a prisoner.”

She doesn’t respond, just reaches out and grabs my hand. “You need some hydrocortisone for the burn.”

“I mean it, Bunny. You aren’t my prisoner.”

“Then why can’t I leave?” She squeezes the tube, sending too much splatting onto the counter.

Should I tell her?

I feel like it would be best if I did. Maybe then she’d trust me some.

“Hmm?” she presses. “If I’m not your prisoner—and now I’m the prison nurse, apparently—why can’t I leave?” She dabs the cream a little too exuberantly onto my hand, but I don’t react.

Instead, I take a deep breath and tell her the truth. “Because I love you.”