Page 61 of Savage Desires

Willow looks around, taking everything in. I can't tell what she thinks because the moment I set her down, she shuts down her emotions, locking them away behind a perfect mask of indifference. I want to shake her and demand she tell me what she's thinking. I clench my fists, waiting as she studies the room.

"You can change anything you don't like…" I finally say, unable to continue the silence.

"It's nice."

"Hannah decorated it. No one's ever used this room. It's yours for as long as you want. And I mean it when I say you can change it. If you want it painted hot pink with black polka dots, say the word, and I'll make it happen."

She smiles at my confession, but it doesn't meet her eyes. They are still completely blank. Void of emotion in a way that sends a chill down my spine. It's the same look I've seen in dozens of eyes over the years. I hate it. I want my fiery warrior back, not this docile version of her that would do anything she's told.

"Thank you, Kisten. It's great as is."

She says the right words, but they are flat. I spin her around and cup her face in my hands. "Don't do that."

"Do what?" she asks, sounding genuinely confused.

"Shut me out. You were full of life one minute, and the next, you're a shell of the woman I know you are."

She breaks eye contact even though she can't move with my hands holding her. A solitary tear tracks down her cheek. I brush it away with my thumb.

"Tell me what's wrong, love."

Her shoulders slump, and she looks defeated. I didn't think I could hate a look worse than the dead, indifferent one. I was wrong. The look of defeat is worse. So much worse.

"It's silly. I'm being silly."

"Nothing you think or feel is silly. I want to know every thought in your head no matter what it is."

"I hate the idea of being in this amazing room without you. It's perfect. I could crawl in that bed and live among the soft pillows, but the only thing I can focus on is that you'll be leaving me here alone."

Her words hit me like an arrow through the heart. I had myself convinced that the uncertainty of her place was why she didn't want me to leave her side while at Gladys's house, but I was wrong. She knows she's safe in my home, and I've assured her she's mine, so there's no doubt that I'm keeping her. There's no reason for her to need to be with me every minute unless she wants to be.

"You want to be in my bed?" I ask roughly.

She nibbles her bottom lip and nods.

"I need to hear you say it, beauty."

"I want to sleep in your bed."

"If you're in my bed, I can't guarantee I'll be able to keep my hands off you when everything you do is a giant cock tease, even without you trying," I warn.

Her breath hitches, and her eyes widen with desire. She's not pushing me away at my warning. Instead, she's leaning into it, showing me she doesn't want me to hold back. I'm going to Hell for this, but I won't send her away from me. If she wants to be in my bed, so be it. I want her there more than anything, so it takes little to convince me.

I pick her up again and carry her further down the hallway to my bedroom. She takes in my space, wandering around touching my things. Her fingers trail over the items on top of my dresser… my watch, the pocketknife Rose gave me for Christmas last year, and a few other things I've dumped out of my pockets over time.

After she looks at everything, she sits on the edge of my bed. Seeing her perched on the gray blanket makes me want to push her over and bury my face in her pussy. I step away from the temptation that she presents.

"I'll grab you something from your bag to sleep in." And take a much-needed break from the sexual tension that has me on the verge of snapping.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

WILLOW

I watch Kisten walk away, that familiar pang filling my chest whenever he leaves me, even though I know he's right down the hall and will return in a minute. I'm such a ridiculous mess. He's going to get sick of my neediness. I should've just thanked him for giving me such a beautiful room and let him go. Instead, I had to be a whiny bitch about wanting to be in his bedroom… in his bed.

I let out a sigh, running my hands through my hair in frustration with myself. Even though he's getting me pajamas, I walk to his dresser and open drawers until I find one with neatly folded t-shirts. The one on top is a well-worn Pink Floyd shirt. The logo is faded, and the shirt is soft and thin from being washed a lot. It's obviously a favorite of his since it's on top and so worn. I pick it up and hold it to my nose, taking in his scent. Somehow, the shirt still smells like him underneath the laundry detergent smell. I hesitate momentarily before I strip out of my clothes and pull on his shirt.

Kisten's footsteps in the hallway send my nerves jumping to attention. What if he gets mad that I went through his things? He told me to make myself comfortable here and didn't seem to mind me looking at all his personal things on top of his dresser. However, digging through his drawers and stealing a t-shirt might be too invasive, especially when he went to get clothes for me.