Weathering the Storm by Brynn Paulin

 

 

 

Chapter Twelve

~ Heller ~

It took me three days to get my head out of my ass and come to my senses. Okay, that wasn’t completely true. It took me two and a half days to realize I was being a dumbass by refusing the olive branch Becca had offered. I’d take it, but I had stipulations of my own. I fucking wanted her. Becca was mine, and I knew it. And if she didn’t know it, she would before tonight was over.

After my work at the garage yesterday, Thursday, I’d gone to the thrift shop to buy some clothes. I needed more than one nice shirt in my wardrobe. While most wouldn’t care to shop thrift, I actually like this store. It was new clothes, not used. The items just happened to be overruns of the stock that had originally been sent to more expensive places.

The whole time, though, I thought about how, I’d shop at high-end stores someday. I’d build Becca the house of her dreams. She’d only have to work if she wanted to work. If she just wanted to stay home and raise our family, that was fine with me, too. I had dreams, and lately, they included Becca and the future we’d build. Every hour of studying, every class I’d be taking in college, seemed all the more important. I couldn’t let myself down. I couldn’t let her down.

But first, she needed to know where we stood.

She hadn’t been on the broadcast tonight, some younger guy filling in. I hoped she was okay. I’d know soon enough. Wearing new clothes, being super forward and carrying a duffle that contained clothing for the weekend, I marched up the steps to her apartment. My fist rapped firmly on the door.

There was no answer, and I knocked again after a minute. Longer. Harder. Her car had been in the lot, so I knew she was here—at least, I hoped she was. I refused to entertain the idea that she might be on a date. My heart twisted at that notion, but I didn’t dwell. She wasn’t dating someone else.

Finally, I heard a noise from the other side of the door, and it opened to reveal my woman, red-eyed and obviously fresh from crying. Guilt speared through me. I knew her sadness had a lot to do with me. Not even saying a word, I stepped inside, dropped my bag and immediately pulled her into my arms. Becca sagged into me, her face pressing into my chest while she shook.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered. I hated that I’d made her weep, even if I didn’t feel as if I was in the wrong. Even if I still had stipulations for us being together.

She sniffled but didn’t say anything. I just held her warm body, clad in those flannel, flying pigs jammies again. When she eventually stopped shaking and her breaths were more even, the shudders less pronounced, she stepped away and swiped the back of her hand over her eyes.

I didn’t let her go, though, keeping her at arm’s length with my hands lightly grasping her biceps. This time apart had been hell. I needed to be near her, in her space. The fact she didn’t try to retreat farther told me she felt the same.

“You’re here,” she murmured.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

I didn’t even hesitate, though I knew she might not appreciate my answer. “Because you’re mine. And though I don’t like the circumstances, I’m agreeing to see you in secret, but…I have stipulations.”

“What stipulations?” she asked, though her face didn’t reveal her feelings on that one way or the other.

“When we’re together alone, you’re mine. When you’re out there, even though I’m not with you, you’re mine. I won’t share.”

“I never thought you would.”

“And what I say goes, in this apartment or wherever we’re alone.”

Now, her brows rose in surprise, but I saw the interest in her eyes. Her pupils dilated, just as they did whenever I got sexually demanding or held her down. I didn’t know why I was that way, but she didn’t seem to mind.

When I moved closer, she didn’t retreat. Her breathing increased as she gazed up at me, her warring emotions in her eyes. She liked my dominant side. Our past, mostly in bed, proved that. But she clearly didn’t think she should agree to letting me take charge all the time.

“You’re mine,” I added, letting the growl enter my voice. My fingers tightened on her upper arms. A slight squeeze, but not enough to mark her. If there were bruises from holding her hips when we got wild in bed, that was one thing. Leaving marks otherwise…? Never. Even love bites would be out of the question due to her job. I wouldn’t make things difficult for her that way. But I would own her body and her time when she wasn’t at the station.

“I know,” she conceded. Her lip sucked between her teeth for a moment before she let it go and stared up at me, waiting.

I gave a nod, dropped my hands then took a step backward. My laser focus was on her. “Get undressed.”

“What?”

I didn’t clarify. A brow lifted while I crossed my arms and waited. Her breathing increased, her firm breasts rising and falling hard beneath that lose pajama shirt. I could just make out her hard nipples behind the flannel.

“Heller,” she whispered.

“Undressed,” I commanded.

She swallowed hard, and her trembling hands lifted to the buttons of her shirt. With more speed than her nerves had indicated, she had it open. She didn’t shrug it off. The parted placket caught on her breasts, keeping me from seeing more than the inner curves. Then she shimmied off the bottoms and her panties, leaving her mostly naked to my view.

Still not discarding the top, she closed the space between us then dropped to her knees. My breath caught, my dick going harder than it already was. It throbbed against my zipper, begging to be free. As if she heard the silent plea, she reached for my belt, but I knew that had been her intent all along.

I gazed down at her, taking in the expanse of bared skin and wanting to taste every bit of it.

“Mine,” I whispered.

“Yours.”