Chapter 17

Prism

Jamie offeredto go to the store with me to pick out sheets for my new bed. He seemed to think he was some sort of savvy sheet connoisseur. I didn’t ask him what made him an expert. To be honest, I didn’t want to know.

After a morning splitting myself open with Arsen, being subjected to the shrewd and judgmental stares of the police, and then moving, the idea of going to some busy, bright, loud store was enough to clog my throat with repressed screams.

So I declined.

And now here I was, hours later, side-eyeing the basic twin-size blankets from the dorm that I’d spread across my new king mattress, hoping I could make them work for the night. Hope was far too optimistic for a pessimist like me. I probably don’t have to tell you that my brand-new bed looked like one of those busted cans of biscuits you get at the grocery store.

Well, I don’t buy them. They’re basically the adult version of a jack-in-the-box and, bro, my nervous system was already haywire.

The blankets didn’t fit. At all. I hated when things didn’t fit. It made me feel like I did something wrong. Like I needed to be punished and to think about what I’d done.

The carpet under my feet made me itchy even when I put on socks. Socks were stupid. Like jail cells for feet.

I busied myself putting clothes away in my dresser, but my socks ended up with my jeans and my shirts with my Speedos. Not how they go.

This townhouse was quieter than the dorm, but the quiet amplified all the new house sounds. How was I supposed to concentrate? Every sound was so loud. So irritating.

Giving up on trying to get used to the new noises, I stuffed my AirPods into my ears, but they wouldn’t turn on. When I snatched up the case, the light blinked orange before going out completely. Frustrated, I ripped them out of my ears and whipped them onto the floor. The scratchy-as-hell carpet could have them.

Eyeing several boxes stacked on the floor, I debated ripping them open to try and find my charger, but just the thought was overwhelming. And the sound of the blade slicing through the tape holding the cardboard closed? Shudder.

Dropping onto the end of the unmade bed, I propped my ankle on my knee to scratch the bottom of my foot relentlessly. Inside the sock, my skin stung, an indication I was itching too hard, but I kept at it. The skin inside my elbow started tingling, erupting into a fiery need to scratch. It didn’t seem to matter how much I itched. The prickly sensation persisted as if ants were crawling under my skin instead of over the surface.

Spying my Elite duffle by the door, I went to it, rummaging around until I found another pair of AirPods. After pushing them into my ears, I palmed my phone and sagged when the familiar ASMR started playing, effectively muffling everything else.

Sweet relief flooded over me, and I exhaled. Tingles raced across my scalp, and I dropped back onto the bed, pulling my legs up to rip the socks off and toss them across the room.

I should have let Jamie take me sheet shopping.

Glancing at the window, I noted the dark sky beyond it and then looked down at my watch. It was late, but a lot of those big box stores were open all the time, right?

If you go get sheets now, then you won’t be able to go with Arsen tomorrow.

I wanted to go with Arsen. So much. But I wasn’t sure I could spend the entire night like this.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Somehow, the faint sound made it past the ASMR playing in my ear, so I squeezed my eyes shut and rolled onto my side, curling myself onto the tiny blankets.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

I shot into a sitting position, hands fisted against the mattress as I gazed around the room with a rising temper. A flash of movement outside the window made me do a double take. The pads of four fingers tapped on the glass but this time so soft no sound could be heard.

Against the dark night, the silver band around one of his fingers glinted, and my stomach dropped, knowing exactly who it was.

Excitement crackled along my already frazzled nerves, and my breath shuddered, reflecting the uneven beat of my heart. My toes curled under the second my bare feet hit the damnable carpet but then flattened back out so I could tiptoe over to the glass.

The window was barely cracked when I started talking. “Arsen? What are you doing? How the hell did you get up here?”

My bedroom was on the second floor, too far for him to just stand beneath and knock.

“Hey, baby.” The casual greeting made my stomach dip, and obvious giddiness swept down the length of my spine.

God, I love the sound of his voice.

“I decided waiting until five tomorrow was just too long.”

He was still dressed in those plaid chinos and black NO REQUESTS shirt from earlier. The stripes down the outside of his legs were bright against the night, making his legs look even longer than usual. The white-and-red trainers were braced on the rough shingles of the roof.

“You climbed onto the roof over the front door?” I asked, astounded.

“It’s right under your window,” he explained as though it made perfect sense. Like it took no effort at all.

“We have a front door,” I pointed out.

“Where’s the fun in that?” His voice was playful, his orneriness punctuated by the white of his smile.

He was charming. I was undoubtedly charmed.

“I brought you a present,” he said when I just stood there staring. The rustle of a bag stole my attention as he held it up between us. It was huge and just further proof of how polarizing he was to me because I hadn’t even noticed the giant white bag until he told me it was there.

“That’s for me?” I asked, dividing my stare between him and his offering. “What is it?”

“How about you let me in and find out?”

I pushed the window up the rest of the way and stepped back, as he tossed the bag inside. Even though I was curious, my attention stayed with him instead of the gift, making me realize it didn’t matter what he could have bought because his presence was the thing I wanted most.

The second he straightened to his full height, the urge to rush him created a tugging sensation in the middle of my chest, and denying it actually ached. The bottoms of my feet burned, my skin screaming against the carpet.

“Come here,” he cajoled, lifting his arms and gesturing with his fingers.

I swayed forward, body obeying immediately, yet my brain kept me rooted in place. Hesitation burned my throat as I ate him up with my eyes, desperate for him but also afraid.

“Come on, princess.” He motioned for me again. “You can do it.”

A sound ripped from my throat, and I leaped at him, my entire muscled, six-foot frame jumping into his offered arms. He stumbled under my weight but righted us both as my legs anchored around his waist and his hands palmed my ass.

Overwhelmed, I didn’t look at him, instead pushing my face into his neck, wrapping my arms tight around his shoulders.

“Good boy,” he praised softly. “Look how good you fit in my arms.”

The backs of my eyes burned even though they were closed. “I fit?” I asked.

His palm settled over my lower back to rub. “You fit so good.”

A fine tremble racked my body, relief unlike any other making my limbs weak. One of his forearms braced my ass, adjusting so he could support the weight I no longer could.

He smelled so good, a scent unique to him that could never be found in a bottle. It was so enticing that I inhaled again and again, then nudged my nose behind his ear.

Just seconds in his presence and my frenetic nervous system was soothed. The urge to scratch the skin off my bones and tear apart those ill-fitting blankets seemed much less urgent.

“I like you,” I said against his skin, not really to anyone, just letting out the emotions bubbling in my chest.

A low sound rumbled in his throat, arms tightening where he held. “Oh, baby, I like you too.”

He sat on the edge of the bed, keeping me in his lap. My feet rested on the mattress behind him as I curled even closer. Despite my size, sometimes I felt impossibly small, no match at all for the world around me. Usually, it made me ashamed. I’d been told all my life that I had to be strong, that real men weren’t weak. It only hammered home that something about me was broken because my six-foot swimmer body still seemed woefully outmatched.

It was such a raw, intimate feeling that I couldn’t bear the thought of anyone knowing, so I told no one. Not even my brother.

But right now? In Arsen’s lap? It was as if he knew.

He knew exactly how to wrap himself around me, using his size to bathe me in the security I somehow always lacked. His body unknowingly became a conduit for mine, channeling safety and reassurance, which soothed the rampant insecurity festering beneath my skin.

I melted into him. His warmth. His scent. His strength. Everything he was diluted everything I wasn’t but in the most reassuring way.

It doesn’t matter what you lack anymore because he has enough for us both.

Such dangerous thoughts. But for once, I was too relaxed to care.

All this time, I’d thought he represented chaos.

In actuality, he was my solace.

“How do you like the new place?” he asked.

I shrugged against him.

A silent chuckle moved through his chest. “Would a present make it better?” he wondered, voice amused.

“No,” I answered truthfully. “But you do.”

Strong arms wound around me, enclosing me in the tightest of bear hugs. I sighed, loving the crushing weight of his embrace. Loving the satisfied rumble in his chest and the softness of his shirt against my cheek.

“Bear,” I whispered.

“Hmm?” he hummed, drawing back a little to look at me.

I made a sound, pushing closer, and he tightened his grip once more. He held me a little longer, letting me drift in the warm security only he could provide.

I didn’t know how much time had passed when his fingers climbed the back of my neck, fingers digging into my hair to scratch lightly against my scalp.

I purred, my usually finicky engine brought to life.

“So I know I said I’d take you to get sheets tomorrow.” He started, and my entire body tensed. The sinfully delightful relaxation I’d been floating in blew away like fluffy clouds in a stormy sky.

Alarmed and embarrassed, I scrambled back, and if it wasn’t for his grip, I would have slid off his lap and onto my ass. He’s tired of you already.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asked.

Avoiding eye contact, I answered, “Giving your space back.”

“Why would I want my space back?”

I paused for a moment, confused. My toes were planted on the floor, the prickly carpet eating them like some bad horror flick my sister would enjoy. Wrenching away, I moved off his lap to pace to the other side of the room.

“Matthew?”

“I get it. You changed your mind,” I said, agitation surging through my body like adrenaline. I glanced around, looking for the socks I’d tossed aside. One was lying by the bed, but the other seemed to have disappeared.

“Changed my mind?”

I let out a gruff sound. “About the date. You’re canceling.”

I’ll just get a new pair. Turning away from him, I went to the dresser where my socks were still crammed beside my jeans. My fingers dug into the wood of the drawer, and I closed my eyes to drag in an exaggerated breath and focus on the ASMR in my ear.

A large palm slid around my hip, the other snaking around my middle to flatten against my stomach. I held myself rigid, a lump in my throat. His body closed in, blanketing me from behind. My eyes shot open, staring at the bare wall behind the dresser, but it was like I couldn’t see. His square chin met my shoulders, and he hugged me close.

“Is that what you think?” he said, his voice fighting against the ASMR.

I said nothing.

Reaching up, he pulled one of the earbuds from my ear. “Can I take this out for a minute?”

In response, I plucked it from his fingers and jammed it back where it had been.

His chest shook with silent laughter. “Have it your way, princess.” Then, “I’m not canceling our date. Nothing could keep me from it. But we don’t need to get sheets.”

My back remained to him, but my eyes strayed in his direction.

“I already bought you some,” he announced.

That got me to turn my head, our noses almost colliding because we were so close. Doing my best to ignore the fluttering of my heart I asked, “What?”

He didn’t move despite the invasion of his personal space. If the crinkling at the corners of his onyx eyes was any indication, I think he liked being invaded. “I realized if I took you tomorrow, then you wouldn’t have anything to sleep on tonight.”

I spared a glance at my mattress and the rumpled, too-small bedding lying on top. “You bought me bedding?”

“You want to see it?”

Yeah, I did. So much so that I jammed the drawer back in place and skirted out of his hold to get the bag. Before I got there, he snatched my arm and pulled me around.

“Not so fast,” he intoned, his voice embodying a bit of command. Something about it washed me with relief. Like I might not have to think as much if he was in control.

“First, tell me you understand that I am not canceling our date. Or any of the ones after it.”

“Who said we were going to have more?” I retorted. Turns out that when I don’t have to think as much, it makes room for me to be a brat.

I feel safe with him.

His unruly black brow arched. “I did. Your calendar is now permanently marked with my name. All your dates from now to forever are mine and mine alone.”

“I didn’t agree to that.” I sniffed.

“Oh, baby, you will,” he replied, and the way he said it made me believe him. “Go open your present.”

He let me go, and I shot across the room to reach into the bag and pull out a clear zippered pouch with a set of folded white sheets. “These are really nice,” I said, glancing at the label and then up at him.

“Yes.” He confirmed, tugging them out of my hands to unzip the top and hold the package between us. “But how do they feel?”

My heart skipped because he cared enough to ask. Because he knew it mattered. A wave of nervousness rose inside me as I stared down into the folded white fabric. There were faint wide stripes on it, and every other one had a barely-there sheen.

What if I didn’t like them? What if the way they felt made my skin crawl? How could I tell him that? How could I recoil from something he’d bought just for me? I couldn’t tell him. I wouldn’t. I’d sleep on them even if they felt like sandpaper.

I’d never wanted to like something so badly. It never mattered before which textures I liked or didn’t because there was nothing emotional attached to them.

“Your old sheets are black,” he observed, glancing at the twin set. “Is white okay? I didn’t really think about the color. I was too worried about the fabric…” His voice trailed off. “Actually, no. I picked white on purpose.”

“You did? Why?”

“That night at the party, you had on a white T-shirt. I liked it. White is pure just like you.” He cleared his throat when I just stared. “But if you don’t?—”

Screw my nerves, I thought, sinking my entire hand into the package. Cool, soft fabric enveloped my hand all the way up to my wrist. I wiggled my fingers, rotated my wrist, and rubbed my palm against the thick stack.

Then I looked at Arsen and smiled, unfiltered joy lighting me up inside as though he’d just handed me my own personal sun. “I like them.”

He yanked the package with my hand still sandwiched inside, and I tumbled into his chest. “If you smile at me like that again, I’ll buy every set in the entire damn store,” he swore, then sealed the vow with a kiss.

The pack of sheets fell to the floor between us, and I clung to his waist while our mouths slid together. Every so often, he would move just right, and the coolness of his lip rings against my heated lips shot jolts of awareness down to my groin. The slight texture of his beard was not scratchy, just abrasive enough to add more sensation to the already devastating kiss.

In the past, there was always so much hesitation in me that it watered down any attraction I felt, but with Arsen, it was replaced with need so strong there was no room for anything else.

I whimpered against his tongue, and he responded by sucking mine into his mouth. When he released me, I latched on to his piercings, gently suckling them, the faint taste of metal coating my tongue.

When he finally lifted, the tops of his cheekbones were flushed and his eyes glittered in a way that made me feel like prey. But this man was no predator, and he proved it when he grasped my cheeks and swept his hot gaze over my features. “You are so goddamn beautiful to me.”

Or maybe he was a predator, the most skillful one to ever hunt, because his words brought me down. Right at his feet.

He stared longer, and I let him, never so comfortably uncomfortable with the unflinching attention of someone else. It was on the tip of my tongue to ask him what he wanted so I could try and be whatever it was. But I said nothing because the way he stared reminded me of something he’d said. Everything you already are is perfectly enough.

After dropping a too-quick kiss against my mouth, he pulled back, bending to reach into the bag. “I got you a couple blankets too,” he said. “No comforter, though, because nothing in that place was good enough.”

Everything he said was like an arrow right through my heart. If he kept shooting arrows like this at me, my heart would be nothing but a gaping hole with beating flesh around it.

“We can go look tomorrow after our date that I will not be canceling.”

I nodded.

He smiled as if my inability to speak was cute. “The blankets I got are king-size, so they’ll be okay for tonight.”

“How’d you know what size to get?” I asked.

“If I was going to buy a new bed, it would be a king.”

“Well, you need one,” I commented, thinking of those long legs.

He could have pointed out that I wasn’t much smaller than him. He didn’t. Stepping closer he said, “I am bigger than you.”

Something inside me loosened. The part of me that felt so small was seen. But more than that… accepted.

“Anyway, these are the bougiest blankets I could find. I told the woman I wanted the softest thing she had.”

A strangled sound tore from my throat, and I practically recoiled. “You mean someone else picked this stuff?”

I didn’t like that. Not at all. I was instantly assaulted by images of Arsen and some woman shopping for sheets together. Of them laughing over the fabric and her rubbing her hand on it.

I started tapping against the outside of my thigh. One, two, three. One, two, three. When the tension in me kept building, I rubbed my bare foot against the horrible carpet and itched the inside of my elbow.

“Matthew.” Arsen’s stern voice snapped my eyes up. He grabbed my forearm, pulling it out so he could look down at my arm and scowl. “What the hell is this?”

I followed his angry stare to the place where my arm bent, noting the red skin that was dotted with small purple spots where my roughness had caused bleeding just beneath the skin. It sort of looked like a rash, but it was caused by my fingers.

“Did you do this to yourself?” he demanded.

I didn’t care for his attitude, so I ripped my arm from his grasp and stepped away.

His eyes narrowed, instantly zeroing in on the way I planted one foot on top of the other. “Let me see your foot.”

“No.”

Incredulous, he barreled forward, catching me around the waist to lift and drop me on the bed. Maybe I should have been offended, but the deepest part of me was too excited he manhandled me the way he did.

Refusing to show it, I glared at him.

Unbothered, he grabbed my leg and lifted, effectively tipping me over onto my back on the mattress. I knew my foot probably looked like my arm the second I saw his face pinch.

Still holding me by the ankle, he glared at me. “Does this hurt?”

Oh. That wasn’t what I was expecting.

What’s wrong with you? Are you crazy? This is unacceptable. That was what I expected to hear.

“Matthew.”

“It stings,” I allowed, staring up at the white ceiling. “The carpet is itchy.”

“Why aren’t you wearing socks?”

“I was.” I didn’t bother to explain they were like straitjackets for toes.

Sighing, he lowered my leg and stepped back. Suddenly, my stomach felt hollow, and panic clawed its way up the back of my throat.

Pushing up into a sitting position, I tucked my feet under me, watching Arsen warily. Wondering if he would go back out the way he came or stomp his way downstairs to the front door.

“No one else picked this stuff,” he said, reminding me all over again of the reason I freaked out. Surprisingly, I hadn’t had time to fixate on it because I went right into worrying he’d be mad about the itching. Then about him hauling ass out of here.

“It was only me. I just told the woman what I was after, and she pointed down an aisle.” He went on, a popping sound filling the bedroom as he yanked the tags and ribbon off a folded blanket. “I’d never let someone else pick something you’re going to be sleeping on.”

The blanket snapped when he shook it out, the large size of it unfolding. Coming forward, he draped it around my back, not hesitating to settle the weight of it on my shoulders and tug it around my chest.

Squatting in front of me, his knees brushed the side of the mattress, the position making it so I was slightly higher on the bed. Saying nothing, he pulled more of the blanket around until I was drowning in the softest fabric I’d ever felt.

It was fluffy without being fur, plush without being squishy, and warm without being heavy. Making a small sound, I curled my fingers into the edges to surround myself even more. “It’s pink,” I pointed out unnecessarily. It wasn’t a bright shade, though, but pale. Quiet.

My overstimulated system nearly wept with relief.

“It’s soft and precious just like you,” he whispered.

For the first time in forever, I knew a burst of frustration at the AirPods in my ears. The ASMR playing blocked his voice, and though I read his lips easily, I wanted to hear his words.

Quickly, I tugged out the earbuds, dropping them in my lap. “Say it again.”

Smiling, he grabbed the end of the blanket, gently stroking the softness of it across my jaw. “Soft and precious just like you.”

Tingles raced over my scalp, so intense it massaged my brain. The euphoria of that feeling lingered, and I clung to the drowsiness it momentarily afforded.

“You like the blanket I picked out for you, princess?” His voice was just added comfort. Added tingles across my scalp.

I nodded. “Thanks, bear.”

The air of surprise around him made me look up.

“Bear?” he repeated, voice slightly hoarse.

My face heated with embarrassment. “That’s what you feel like to me. Big. Warm. Soft. Comforting.” I paused, fidgeting with the end of the blanket. “You hug tight too.”

His Adam’s apple bobbed. “You just gave me a nickname.”

“Is that okay?” I asked, self-conscious. Maybe I should have pointed out he’d given me three.

Well, if calling me by my actual full name counted as a nickname. It did, right? No one else called me that.

When he said nothing, I scowled. He hates it. “Bear is better than princess.”

All the breath whooshed out of me when my back hit the mattress. He hovered over me, blocking out everything else and holding me captive with an intense glittering stare. Dark hair fell over his forehead, and his arms caged me in.

“You know you only give nicknames to people you plan to keep around,” he told me, words husky in the slight space between us.

The unspoken question settled heavily between us, and I knew if I answered, everything going forward would likely change.

I hate change.

But I’m so in love with him.

I should have been freaking out. Trying to climb out of my own skin. But in this moment with his blanket around me and his body over me, all I felt was settled. Like this was where I should be. Where I wanted to be.

Looking at him from beneath my lashes, I nodded. “Do you like it?” Can I keep you?

“Do I like it?” He scoffed, lowering onto his elbows so the length of our bodies touched. “I love it,” he confided. “I’ll be your bear, baby.” The backs of his fingers stroked across my cheek. “There is literally nothing I want more.”