“Bullshit.” He squeezes my upper arms and shakes me a little. “I thought about this, and I was going to be nice and gentle and take my time to prove it to you, but fuck that. You need a good smack on the ass and don’t think you won’t be getting plenty of those later.”
“Let me go.” I can’t think when he’s this close. Why can’t he just bow out gracefully?
He releases me and I teeter on my high heels before he steadies me. He takes a step toward me and I step back. His eyes narrow. “Yeah, you’d better run, because when I catch you, I’m taking all this aggression out on you.”
I gasp, unsure what’s going on, but retreating out of instinct.
He keeps coming.
I swallow hard.
He points at my chest. “You want to know why people pat you on the hand and feel sorry for you? Because that’s how you feel about yourself. No one will ever stop feeling sorry for you until you do.”
“I know, damn it,” I yell, my temper finally getting the better of me. I throw up my hands. “That’s why I’m doing this. I want it all, and I’m not going to settle for less.”
“And how the hell am I not giving you everything you want?” He rakes a hand through his hair. “Fuck, Abby! I’m going to a stupid sex club I don’t want to go to becauseyouwant it. I’m doing everything and anything I can think of to keep you happy and satisfied and it’s not enough.”
The change of subject startles me and my next argument falters. Wait, what does he mean by that? I frown. “You don’t want to go?”
I’m still walking backward and he’s still coming.
“No I don’t want to go! Jesus, you think I want to watch a bunch of guys drool over you and try and arrange a threesome? Do you think I want someone to watch me fuck you and cheapen the whole experience?”
“Why didn’t you say something?” I bang into the wall.
He presses against me and I try desperately not to get distracted.
“Because I want to make you happy.” He tucks a lock of hair behind my ear and his expression softens. “Do you know I’ve stayed up nights thinking about ways to convince you how fantastic you are? How much I want you? How I can’t stop thinking about you? How important you are to me?”
I blink, licking my lips. “You do?”
“Yes.” He trails a finger over my jaw. “I love you, Abby.”
When I’d decided to demand more, I never thought this would be the outcome. This has to be a dream. “Wh-what?”
“I’m in love with you, I have been for a while.”
“Oh.” It’s so unexpected I can’t formulate a coherent thought.
He strokes over my cheek. “Tell me what I need to do to convince you? To make you believe me?”
He said he loves me, but I still have to ask for what I want. His declaration doesn’t change that.
This is ten-times scarier than sending my list, but I do it anyway. “I want a commitment. I’m not saying marriage, but a relationship.”
“That’s funny,” he says, brushing a soft kiss over my lips. “I thought we were in a relationship.”
“You did?”
“Hell, Abby, I haven’t slept without you unless I’m at work, I spend every second I have with you, I walk into your house as though it’s mine and I love you. That sounds a lot like a relationship to me.”
Now I feel kind of stupid for not thinking of it like that.
I scrape my teeth over my lower lip. I have to tell him how I feel. “I love you too.” I’ve never said the words before. They feel strange but right on my tongue.
He runs his hands up my bare arms. “I want to marry you.”
“You do?” I still can’t quite believe this.