Page 58 of Obey

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Page 58 of Obey

“I had my fingers in your ass, Half-Pint. I can handle some hair dye.” His voice is low and next to my ear.

My body temp shoots up to thermonuclear levels, and my chest gets red. There was no criticism in his voice, no judgment or accusation.

“We both know I like it messy.”

The shiver that snakes up my back takes me by surprise.

“And you got so beautifully messy for me, baby girl.” I can feel his smile against my skin. “I love when you make that noise, that purr of contentment. It’s my favorite sound.”

The risk of popping our bubble of bliss is high, but I can’t choke back the questions any longer. “I heard you say about your wife last night.”

He stiffens ever so slightly, but he doesn’t stop caressing me, and washing me with the cloth. “She passed away from cervical cancer a few years ago. Only six months after we got married.”

Oh. A sliver of my heart breaks off for the man of steel who puts a rough facade on for the world.

“I’m so sorry.” My chin’s trembling, tears already streaming down my cheeks and off my chin into the bathwater. “That’s awful.”

He nods, his chin scratching against my shoulder blade. “She had no symptoms, right up until the time it was too late to do anything about it.”

The fractures in my chest grow with everything he says. “Jagger...” I don’t know what to say. There are no words, no comfort I can provide him.

“It’s okay. I can’t say it gets easier, but it’s definitely hard to let people into a more long-term relationship space. It was hard watching her fade away in front of me.” His voice is small, fragile, like if I poked him he might fall apart. The strong, confrontational, dominant man I’ve known for the past couple of days, the man who’s held me together, now clings to me for comfort.

I’m afraid to breathe in case he realizes he’s vulnerable. But yet I don’t want him to think I don’t care, or I don’t appreciate what he’s sharing with me. Because I do, on both counts. It’s tragic. No one should ever have to go through something like this, never mind someone so young.

I can’t stand my back being to him anymore. I need to look him in the eye, I need him to see that even if I’m quiet, I’m not awkward or ignoring this conversation. I’m not hiding.

I spin to face him, the water sloshing over the side of the tub as I maneuver around his giant limbs. We sit staring at each other for a long moment. He tenderly sweeps bubbles from my shoulder, and suddenly it’s him who can’t meet my stare. His eyes flicker to the water.

“I don’t know how this is going to go, Half-Pint. I’m not good at more than one-and-done.”

I’m still not letting myself breathe. It’s like I’m intruding on a private moment right now, and I don’t know how to navigate it. His gruffness seems easier to handle than this emotion. For both of us.

“I’d like to pursue something between us. But I need to come clean. I know your ex. Harry is my college rival. He picked on my friends and I, cheated and swindled his way through college and took everything I ever wanted right from within my grasp.”

The tears are flowing faster, as my chest heaves with tiny hiccupping sobs. We must have gone to the same school, and I was just younger than they were. But I don’t remember Jagger at all.

“When I realized who you were, I wanted to get my revenge on him. I wanted to punish him for everything he put my friends and I through.” He sweeps kisses across my wet shoulder. “But when we started playing, started checking things off that bucket list of yours, I realized it wasn’t about ruiningyouforhim, but ruininghimforyou. You’re too good for him, Talia. You’re too good for both of us.” His voice hardens.

“You shouldn’t be with either of us. But I wanted to expand your world enough for you to not be able to go back and settle with him.”

His raw honesty curls itself around my chest, tightening against my ribs and forcing me to breathe. I should be angry at him, I should be mad he wanted to use me as an implement ofvengeance, but the tone of his voice, the way his words are laden with apology and regret soothes over the wound.

“I want you to be my girl, Half-Pint. I know it’s been a couple days, I know it’s fast, and it’s certainly not something I’ve ever done before, but there’s something here. And I hope you feel it too.”

The confession makes him quiet for a long moment. “Now would be a good time for your chatterbox to kick in. The universe is off balance with me being the talkative one for a change.”

I giggle through my tears. “That’s more than you’ve said to me since we met.”

He grunts like he’s reached his quota of words.

He washes my hair in silence, rinsing it off after a deep and long head massage that sends me to a space somewhere between sleep and climax. It’s a place that’s floaty, like I’m levitating outside my body, it’s warm and comfortable and safe. It’s somewhere I want to visit more often, but I’m not sure how I even got here.

“Are you back in space, baby girl?”

“Space?”

“Little space. Or subspace, but I’m pretty sure you’re a little.”




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