“Not really.” Sasha leaned in, his lips tracing a line from my temple to my cheek. “You being mine puts you in a dangerous position.”
My breath hitched. There was a violent edge to his words. It was evident in his gaze and his touch, and in the way he dominated the space around us — everything felt combustible.
“I’m asking you to trust me,” he rasped, his breath ghosting over my heated skin.
I sighed. “Idotrust you, but do you have any idea how frustrating it is to not knowanything? Fuck, you won’t even actually let me in or tell me shit about yourself, so what the hell am I even doing here? Being a convenient hole? A little fucktoy happily sitting on the shelf, waiting for you to come back home?”
Sasha reared back. “What’s that supposed to mean? I’ve told you shit I haven’t ever told anyone else.”
“And yet you still haven’t told me about why you even were in prison in the first place!”
“Wait, what?!” His eyebrows shot up to his hairline and a look of disbelief spread across his face. “Hold on. Do you … you don’t … You never fucking Googled me?!”
“No, jackass! At first, I didn’t want to invade your privacy and get to know you without your crimes overshadowing things. Then I was scared to look, well, mainly because I didn’t want to know what you looked like—”
“Why?”
“I was scared I’d like what I’d find, and I definitely wasn’t ready to face being attracted to you at the time. Don’t judge me!” I glared at him.
Sasha snorted. “That worked out well for you, huh?”
“… And then you fuckingkidnappedme and I was giving you time, hoping you’d want to tell me because you actuallywantedto tell me.” I crossed my arms, ignoring his mumbledDidn’t kidnap you. “Which, clearly, you didn’t. My fucking bad for hoping the whole ‘You’re mine’ thing actually involved some sort of connection.”
Sasha slow-blinked, then he broke out into wild laughter. He braced a hand on the ground as he almost lost his balance, and I could have sworn I saw a tear escape the corner of his eye.
What a dick.
“Thanks,” I deadpanned. “Glad my feelings are so hilarious to you.”
“Christ. Fuck, I’m sorry, baby. I’m sorry!” He took a deep breath in an effort to calm himself down and shook his head slightly. “I’m not laughing at you. I’m laughing at the situation.”
“Sure you are.” I scoffed. I should get up and leave, but his hand was back on my hip again, and I was still craving his touch like crazy — fucking sue me.
“You’re literally one of the nosiest people I’ve ever met. How was I supposed to know you never actually Googled me? I even dared you to in one of my letters. I had no doubt you’d Googled me and read about what I’ve done.”
Sasha’s thumb continued brushing gently over my hip and I felt a flutter in my stomach.
Not now, butterflies. Read the fucking room.
“Well, I haven’t,” I said primly. “The only thing I actually know is what they broadcasted when you escaped. They said … Well, they said you’re a murderer and the victim was some businessman—”
“My mom’s husband,” Sasha growled, his long fingers flexing on my hip.
“So … your stepfather?”
“Nah. That man wasn’t any kind of father to anyone. He was my mother’s husband, nothing more.” There was venom in his voice; I couldn’t remember his words ever being tinged with such a dark edge.
“O-kay?” I raised my brows and waited for him to elaborate.
“Are you sure you want to hear this, baby? It’s not a pretty story.”
I nodded. “I’m sure.”
I’d been dying to find out what had landed him in prison, and I wasn’t about to back down now just because the tale might be gruesome.
Sasha sighed, rose to his feet and picked my legs up in one hand. The lounge chair creaked slightly as he straddled it and faced me, spreading my legs and arranging them over his. My position left me on display for him, and as he raked his gaze over my scantily clad body, my bikini bottoms were growing damp.
“Stop trying to distract me,” I grumbled.