The place where he’s touching me burns and then tingles in rapid succession, and no amount of deep breathing drives it away. Maybe touching should be on the negative list, too, because I totally need to desensitize myself to it.
Or maybe just limit it to touching Nate.
He tilts his head to the side, watching me in that harsh, critical way that befits a criminal. Am I one now because I chose the wrong god?
“Did you hear what I said?”
“About what?” I totally wasn’t listening, because he’s still touching me. He still has his warm hand on my elbow. Nate doesn’t do that, you know. He doesn’t touch me. Ever. I’m the one who tries it and fails miserably every time.
But he’s doing it right now.
And it’s hard to focus when I’m floating in the clouds.
“About how you’re not a burden.”
My heart jolts and I can’t control the tremor that shoots through my limbs. It’s a knee-jerk reaction that gives away my emotions and I hate it. Especially in front of him. The man who’s the reason behind it every damn time.
“I am.” I lower my head, staring at my white sneakers, and that automatically makes me look at his prim leather shoes. And the difference between his and mine is so striking that it helps to anchor me in the moment, even if temporarily. “I know you’re marrying me because you want to protect Dad’s assets and that’s okay, but it still makes me a burden. Because I’m not old enough to take care of things myself and I didn’t even graduate or pass the bar yet, so I can’t practice law or stand against Susan in court and—”
“Look at me.”
I shake my head, swallowing after all the rambling I’ve done. What if he sees the shame on my face—or worse, the things I’m trying to hide? That would be a disaster no one needs.
“Gwyneth.”
I flinch, my heart hammering in my chest, but it’s not because I’m scared. Not even close. It’s due to how he just spoke.
How can someone pack so much command in one single word? In the simple way he says my name? And is it creepy that I want him to keep talking to me in that tone?
For that reason alone, I contemplate disobeying him just to hear it again. But at the same time, I can’t ignore the warning, the severity of it.
So I slowly meet his gaze, and I wish I hadn’t, because he releases my elbow and I feel like I’m drowning in nonexistent water.
“Do you honestly believe that I chose to do this just to be there for you or because I’m a knight in shining armor? I’m not, Gwyneth. Far from it.”
“Then what are you?”
“Whatever knights in shining armor fight. And that means there’s not one noble, sacrificing bone in my body. The reason I’m marrying you isn’t because I want to protect you or King’s legacy. I’m protecting my firm. My own legacy. So the fact that you feel like a burden is needless and unnecessary. We’re using each other. Do you understand?”
My chest deflates and a strong whoosh of air escapes me. It’s not relief, though. It’s due to being so focused on the way he spoke that I kind of forgot to breathe.
Happens all the time.
But before now, I barely saw him—like once a month or something—and he hardly spoke to me. Now that I’ve seen him every day since Dad’s accident, spoken to him, been close to him, I think I’m having some sort of an overdose. A deadly one at that.
I’ll get used to it, right? If I see him constantly, I’ll totally be desensitized to his presence.
“Answer my question. Do you understand?” he repeats in that stiff tone, the strictness in it touching places within me that should remain untouched.
“Yeah.”
“Don’t let your mind wander to places it shouldn’t. The next time you have a doubt or a thought, you come to me and say it. You don’t hide, and you sure as fuck don’t turn off your phone.”
I flinch again, and it’s crazy, but this time I think I do it because hearing him curse is as rare as seeing a flying unicorn. And it’s hot—him cursing. It’s masculine and fits his authoritativeness so well.
“My battery died,” I offer lamely, because yeah, it did, but I also let it run down on purpose.
“Make sure it never does again. The next time I call, you pick up.”
“You’re not my keeper, Nate.” I need to put that out there somehow so that I don’t still feel like a burden.
He pauses, watches me intently with that savage gaze of his—that I now know why people are afraid to make eye contact with. By using a mere look, he can make a person doubt their life. It would be safer to avoid those dark eyes and the twisted promise in them, but I don’t.