This woman is shuffling my cards into a mess and I wouldn’t stop it even if I could.
I lift her chin and kiss her, softly this time, with enough passion that she melts against me. Kisses me back. Fuses her body with mine.
For a moment, I forget that I must ask her about my sister’s whereabouts. But I’ll get to that later.
Because right now, I want to thank her in the only way I know how.
33
CECILY
Things are…confusing, to say the least.
When everything with Annika and Creighton went down, I hadn’t thought I would witness this side of Jeremy.
It’s even different from before we had that rift.
He doesn’t feel distant, like he’s putting a wall between us and refusing to divulge anything about himself. In fact, in the last five days we’ve spent together, I’ve learned so much more about him than I did during all the months before that.
One, he’s responsible to a fault about the people he considers to be under his wing. That includes his family, Nikolai, Killian, Gareth, Ilya, and even the guards.
Oh, and me. He definitely treats me like I belong on that list.
Two. He’s protective despite the cold aloofness and is ready to unleash the beast side of him whenever he senses a spark of danger.
Three, and most importantly, he’s an emotional vault. In the beginning, I thought he lacked feelings, and he does to an extent, but when I dug deeper and he allowed me to get closer, I found out that he just keeps them hidden well. He’s also highly selective about which emotions to let slip from his armor.
The fact remains, Jeremy does see the world in black and white, which is why he barely trusts anyone, but when he does, it’s for life.
That’s the other thing about Jeremy. He truly has high regard for loyalty, which is why he got extremely mad when he thought I’d let Annika down.
And that’s the link that’s confusing me in this whole story. We still haven’t resolved what happened with Annika, yet every night, he picks me up from the shelter, the dorm, or the library, not caring that anyone can see him. He brings me to the cottage, where we cook, eat, and study together.
He fucks me, sometimes by chasing, other times by just taking me on the bed or the sofa in regular positions.
For some reason, I thought I’d never like that, that I was too defective to ever feel pleasure without some sort of thrill or feeling forced into it. Jeremy has taught me that I can enjoy ordinary sex.
Calling it ordinary is a bit of a stretch, though. He’s still rough, intense, and uses the knife sometimes. Not that I’m complaining.
Jeremy has awakened parts of me that were dormant before he came along. Parts that buzz to life around him, waiting for the moment he’ll touch me again.
Whether it’s chasing me or laying me down and fucking me doesn’t matter. I pant for more after every time.
I’m powerful despite handing over my power. He doesn’t abuse it and makes me feel safe in his arms.
I’ve come to the realization that I feel this way because it’s Jeremy. If it were anyone else, I wouldn’t have this level of desire and peaceful acceptance of my sexuality.
Every night, he cleans me or showers with me. He asks me about my day, and not in the small talk kind of way where people ask and then zone out.
Jeremy actually listens intently to everything I say. He makes me feel important and wanted, like I have someone to fall back on.
I still need to be careful about slandering anyone in front of him or mentioning even the slightest annoyance, because the other day, I told him that a colleague scratched my car unintentionally, and the following day, that colleague’s car paint was found wholly ruined.
When I asked Jeremy if he did it, he shrugged. “It must’ve happened unintentionally.”
I’m struggling to come to terms with that part of him, even though I know it would probably be impossible to stop him from being himself.
The parts that make up for it, though, are when he built me shelves in the cottage and continued to stuff them with mangas. Or when he listens to me talking nonstop about them without being bothered. Unless I actually call a character hot or cute, then he definitely starts questioning if maybe he should get rid of them.
Jealous of a fictional character, check.
At night, he covers me and only allows me to sleep either in the cocoon of his body or on his lap.
Like right now.
I stare up at him, at the hard ridges of his face, the slickness of his abs, and the ink that flexes with his muscles while he types on his phone. His other hand lies nonchalantly on my chest, nearly covering it all.