Page 95 of Piece Us Together

“That you’re okay.”

I take a swig of my whiskey. When I bring the bottle down to my side, he reaches out. I tell myself to move away. I tell myself to yell at him. I tell myself to remind him he’s not my fucking dom.

I let him take the bottle.

His fingertips are warm where they brush against mine.

“There you go, noticing things again.” It’s meant to be angry. Annoyed. It comes out too soft though. Almost relieved.

“It’s my job.”

“You’re not—” I stop, the rest of the sentence sticking in my throat. I stare at the bottle he’s now holding, wishing for the whiskey to burn it away.

“I’m not your dom, no.” He smiles. It’s impossibly sad. I want to make it disappear.I want to kiss it gone.“But I still care about you.”

Fuck, I’m drunk.

I am much more drunk than I thought.

His lips would be soft against mine. I bet he’d take control. I bet he’d dominate my mouth until I’m brainless and all his.

But he’d find out the truth, eventually.

He’d find out I’m broken in all the ways that don’t deserve repair.

“Maybe I’m not worth caring about.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“You don’tknowme, Hunter.”

He tilts his head. “Don’t I?”

I’ve killed people. I’ve done worse than kill people. I got my own brother raped. I sat there and fucking watched.

I can’t fall in love with you.

I think maybe it’s too late.

I ruin everything I touch.

I don’t want to ruin you.

“Hunter.”

“Yes?”

I look right at him. “I don’t want to fall in love with you.”

There’s a split second where he loses control of himself. His expression cracks and there’s so much emotion that pours out I could choke on it. Then he’s tugging it all back until he’s the calm, steady dom he usually is. “Okay.”

“Can you stop? Please?” I curl my hands into fists, not wanting him to see them shake. “I need you to stop.”

He takes a step closer, worry evident in his expression. “Stop what, Maison?”

“Making me.”

He doesn’t understand for a moment.