Chapter 31

Prism

He loves me.

He loves me not.

He loves me.

Not even I, a man scorned by love since birth, could deny it. I was too hypersensitive to emotion. To sound. To touch. To the world around me. And right now?

My entire world was him.

How could I not feel it? It was overwhelming and devastating. Undeniable to even a cynic like me.

I wanted his love. God, how I wanted it. To be swallowed up and muffled by Arsen Aaron Andrews. To let his love shield me from everything sharp and cruel. To believe that I was lovable even if I was filled with faults.

Love is fragile.

Love is fickle.

Love is not a guarantee.

So yes, even though I could feel his love, feel it so well it was nearly tangible, how could I accept it?

What would happen when he woke up one day, tired of the life sentence of me? I supposed it was different with Kruger, Jess, and Gram. Their love, I mean.

All love is not created equal.

It seemed far less of a risk for them to love me. For me to love them back.

But with Arsen? I wondered if the risk outweighed the reward. That thought alone made me sick, and I sat up on the bed, violently swallowing the vomit trying to purge itself up the back of my throat.

How could you even think that about him? What is wrong with you, Matthew?

When did I start referring to myself as Matthew?

God, he was in me deep. DNA swimming in my womb. Hickeys marking my skin. Whispers in my ear. The very beat of my heart.

Yeah, yeah, I don’t have a womb. It’s an expression, okay?

Give a guy a break.

Besides, as emotional as I felt after everything and then that dicking down he just gave me, I might as well have been pregnant.

Look, I never said I was as funny as Jamie.

And clearly, I have a breeding kink.

Add it to the list of things I won’t tell people. Lucky you, getting to know my kinky secrets. *wink*

“Hey.” Arsen’s voice was calm and soothing, the literal balm to my very existence. The sheets ruffled when he sat up beside me, broad palm stroking across my back. “You okay?”

I turned toward him, and he opened his arms. I crawled into them, fitting myself between his spread thighs. I sat sideways in his lap, shoulder and side pressed against his chest, the rest of me enclosed in his arms.

His chin rested on the top of my head, his prickly scruff catching in my hair. Burrowing closer, I reached for his nipple piercing, twisting and tugging it lightly, then tapping against it in threes. One, two, three. He said nothing, just held me while rubbing up and down my arm.

I knew I should say something, but it was hard to speak. And when I was here like this, tucked into his embrace, the reward far outweighed the risk.

What about when he’s gone?

An intrusive image of his father, Senator Andrews, high-beamed the backs of my eyelids, leaving me nearly blind.

I jolted, falling out of his arms.

He reached for me, but I scrambled out of bed, more worried about the way the carpet felt underfoot than the fact I was stark naked.

Kinda hard to be shy about that when his cum is leaking out my ass.

That thought had me reaching around to feel that, yes, Arsen’s release was in fact dripping from my puffy entrance. The panic about the carpet shifted into something new. Emptiness. Abandonment. I didn’t want him leaking out. I wanted him to stay.

Without thinking, I scooped up what I could and pushed it back inside me, body sagging a little in relief.

He caught me around the waist, lifting enough so he could plant my feet on top of his.

“What are you doing?” I asked, glancing down at the way I stood on top of him.

“Was about to ask you the same thing,” he rumbled, and tingles raced over my scalp.

I stepped back, but the second my foot made contact with the sandpaper marauding as carpet, my skin screamed, so I jammed it back on top of his, and he chuckled under his breath.

“Want to take a shower?” he asked, caressing my lower back. “I’ll wash you.”

“No!” I said, fast and decisive.

His eyebrows arched up his forehead, but then a predatory gleam entered his eyes. “Want to keep me in there just a little bit longer?”

I averted my gaze.

“Come back to bed, then. It’s time we talk.”

I wasn’t sure what was worse, washing him off my body or talking. Both seemed equally horrible.

“We could text each other emojis,” I suggested hopefully. Emojis were so much easier than words.

“And what emoji would you text me right now?” he murmured, gently pushing me back into bed.

I didn’t have an answer for that because there wasn’t a single emoji that could possibly convey everything he made me feel.

“I don’t have my phone anyway,” I muttered.

“I brought it with me. It’s in the pocket of my sweats,” he said, gesturing across the room to wherever he’d discarded his clothes.

“They gave you your car back?”

He shrugged, slipping beneath the sheet behind me. “No reason to hold it.”

“If your dad wasn’t a senator, it would be sitting on an impound lot,” I muttered, stomach twisting. Thinking of his dad made me squeamish.

I expected him to blandly point out that my father was a senator too. I mean, technically, he wouldn’t be wrong. But he didn’t.

“Is my father really a dealbreaker for you?” he asked softly.

More like a heartbreaker.

“Isn’t mine?” I countered.

“No.”

My lips pressed into a hard line. “Yet, two hours ago, everyone believed I was some sort of dirty rat bastard of a spy, creeping around to get your dad overthrown.”

Arsen laughed.

I glanced at him sharply. “You think this is funny?”

“I think you hang out with Kruger too much.”

“Yeah? Well, Kruger never accused me of trying to set him up for possession of narcotics.”

All the humor left his face, replaced with turbulent anger. It whipped up a windstorm of anxiety inside me, and I couldn’t help but think, Still?

After being arrested, being accused of crimes, confessing my most hidden secrets and pain, practically passing out on the floor, three orgasms (two of them consecutive!), and more than one panic attack… anxiety still had the energy to taunt me?

Bro.

I was exhausted.

When I looked back at Arsen with his stubbornly set square chin and stormy scowl, my stomach swooped again. I guess I’d never be too tired to be affected by anxiety and his anger.

Love me. Don’t hate me.

“Let’s get something straight,” he intoned, eyes piercing. “I did not accuse you. It was Niles. And he got punched in the face and fired for it.”

I felt my mouth drop. “You fired your lawyer.”

“My father fired him.”

My mouth hung slack once more. Impossible. “W-what?”

He seemed uninterested in that particular conversation because he plowed on. “I never for one millisecond even entertained the idea that this was you. I know it wasn’t.”

I wet my lips to argue.

He made a gruff sound, cutting me off. “Yes, I was caught off guard by your paternity, by all the things you confessed. And I was angry you didn’t trust me enough to tell me.”

“It has nothing to do with trust,” I retorted, something in me shriveling.

“I know that now.”

The gentle tone brought my head up. “You do?”

“Your silence is just another way of protecting yourself.”

I nodded.

“So, no, I don’t give a damn who donated DNA to make you. Frankly, I’m just fucking glad you’re here.”

Oh.No one had ever said that before. I’m glad you’re here. As if my presence were a blessing and not a curse. I fell a little harder for him just then, and it scared the shit out of me.

“Tell that to your father.” Maybe my bravado was fake, but that didn’t stop me from trying valiantly to protect my heart.

“I did.”

My heart skipped. Maybe I hallucinated. “What?”

“I told him I love you. I told him you didn’t do this and that if he hurt you, I would never forgive him.”

He was serious. His tone and gaze were sincere. Tears pressed against the backs of my eyes, creating a massive amount of pressure in my head. My nose burned, my throat turned dry, and my mind… it sort of went hollow, too overloaded to process anything at all. So I just sat there, overcome physically, and shut down mentally.

I stared across the room, eyes open but unseeing, lost in a void of nothing. It was sort of like having a massive to-do list and then doing nothing at all because it was just too much.

Warm, confident hands settled me into an equally warm lap. Soft fabric draped around my back, wrapping gently beneath my chin. Reassuring fingers carded through my hair, and then his lips touched mine.

I blinked, focused on the face touching mine, falling into the bottomless patience that Arsen seemed to have for me. He kissed me again. Then again.

On the fourth kiss, my lips responded.

“Good boy,” he whispered into my mouth, and I swallowed the praise, finding that it jumpstarted my brain.

I blinked, realizing I was straddling his lap with the pink blanket around me.

“Did he punish you?” I whispered, pain squeezing my heart.

His forehead wrinkled. “Punish me?”

I swallowed, hand reaching out of the soft cocoon he’d tucked me in to fidget with the barbel in his nipple.

“Your father,” I rasped. “Did he punish you for loving me?”

Arsen’s eyes filled with sadness, and it enhanced mine tenfold.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, voice wet. “I’m sorry he hurt you because of me.”

He grabbed my face and pulled me in, pressing our foreheads tightly together. “He didn’t hurt me, baby.”

“But your eyes are sad.”

“Because you think loving you is a punishable offense.”

Those tears pressing behind my eyes won the battle and fell consecutively from each eye. Arsen leaned forward and kissed them away, then met me in the middle, kissing my lips.

“I know it’s hard to believe, baby, but my father isn’t like him. If you let him, he will be good to you. My mother too.”

“I’m a liability.”

“No.” His voice was firm. “You aren’t. Those people are the liability. The people who hurt you. If I could go back and change it, I’d give away everything I own to do it. But I can’t. And if being around my father is too much for you, then we won’t be.”

My brows furrowed. “I’d never ask you to choose between me and your family.”

“You don’t have to. I choose you. I love you. Today, tomorrow, always,” he promised. “I can’t change my DNA any more than you can change yours. It doesn’t matter. It might have built my body, but it will never rule my heart.”

More tears fell, and he swiped them away. I cried for the little boy who sat afraid and locked in an unlit closet and believed when he was told no one would ever love him. I cried for the boy who went to live with his gram who wasn’t really his gram at all and spent years with a suitcase packed beneath his bed because he was waiting for the day she’d abandon him too. More tears fell for the teen who’d found a brother, then later a sister, and realized the woman raising him couldn’t be pushed away. That boy told himself it was enough to have those three people and he didn’t need more.

And now, I cried for the man who found the love he thought he’d never have… but did.

“I don’t want to love you.” The words were heavy just like my heart.

“But you do?” Arsen asked, the hope in his voice light.

“This is the part where I’d text you a heart emoji.”

“What color?”

I groaned. Why was he so perfect? So willing to accept me as I was?

“Red,” I whispered.

“Red’s the color of love,” he murmured. “So it must be yes.”

How could I fucking not love him? My heart never stood a chance.

“I do,” I confessed. “Love you.”

Groaning, he grabbed my face once more to kiss me fiercely. I pulled back, dropping my gaze. “Did your father really fire Niles?”

“I fired him first,” Arsen muttered. “Punched him too.”

He seemed rather disgruntled that he wasn’t getting the credit. Such an alpha.

Slipping my hand across his thigh, I patted him. “Thank you for protecting me, bear.”

His eyes lit up. It was predictable but fucking charming as hell. Guess he liked praise too. “I won’t tolerate anyone hurting you, princess,” he vowed, covering my hand with his.

I then noticed his red knuckles. I made a sound, lifting them for inspection. “How hard did you hit him?”

“Not hard enough,” he grumped.

Such a bear. “Does it hurt?”

“Yes. You should kiss it.”

I rolled my eyes but pressed kisses to each knuckle. He smiled, smug like a cat who’d dined on a fat canary. Maybe I shouldn’t have been so pleased he’d resorted to throwing punches on my behalf. I mean, I could defend myself. But it was nice to have a rest. Nice that he wanted to do it.

I still couldn’t help but wonder. “And your father?”

Arsen said he wasn’t like my biologic. And maybe he wasn’t. To Arsen. But I was not his son.

“Yes, baby, he fired Niles too. He also said he was going to take care of all of this.”

“You mean make sure you aren’t charged with possession.”

“That we aren’t.”

I shifted uncomfortably, my stomach clenching.

“What is it?”

“I didn’t have anything to do with this,” I declared.

“I know that, baby. I already told you I believe you.”

“But this is definitely something he would do.” I elaborated. Didn’t that make me guilty by association?

“McClaren?”

A hollow feeling bottomed out my stomach. “You know, if I’d been a good enough son, that would be my last name too,” I told him, staring across the room at my bare walls. “Matthew Miller McClaren. I’d be triple M.”

“That last name isn’t good enough for you,” he said passionately. “I know you like threes, but some things are just better in pairs. Like the M in your name. And us.”

“Us,” I echoed.

“Look at me,” he demanded, clutching my chin to make me listen. Sometimes I liked it when he made me do things. I didn’t have the power to overrule my brain, but he did.

“Your last name doesn’t matter right now because, eventually, it will be mine.”

His?

Surprise and disbelief must have broadcast across my face because he nodded. “When I said you’re mine, I meant it.”

“But it’s too soon. You’ll change your mind.”

“I agree it’s too soon to get married. But someday it won’t be. And if you ever say I’ll change my mind again, I’ll wash your mouth out with soap.”

My nose wrinkled. “Soap?”

He nodded, decisive. “Clean that filthy mouth right up.”

I couldn’t help but smile, but it was short-lived as my mind circled back to my worries. “What if it was him?” There really was no what-if about it. This was exactly something John McClaren would do. “How could you trust me? Your family?”

“You are not him. One has nothing to do with the other.”

I said nothing.

Arsen sighed. “I told my father about the abuse.”

I stiffened, pulling my hands away from his. “What?”

“It’s important he knows what McClaren is capable of. And also proof you’d never help him sabotage my father.”

“I wish you hadn’t,” I said, self-conscious of what the enemy of my enemy now knew.

“Yes, he is your father’s enemy. But he isn’t yours.”

My head whipped up, shock rolling off me in waves.

His lip curled up, tugging at those sexy lip rings. “You said that out loud.”

“I’m tired,” I mumbled.

“You trust me, right?”

“Yes,” I answered instantly because, as much as my head cautioned me, my heart overruled and instinct insisted. “I do.”

“Then trust me when I say my father won’t tell anyone what I told him in confidence. No one else will know.”

I nodded.

“The point is no one blames you for his actions, okay? My parents understand this has nothing to do with you. They accept my choice, and that choice is you. I don’t expect you to ever see them. My love has no conditions, okay? Just…” His voice faded away, and he swallowed nervously.

“Just what?” I asked, feeling nervous too.

“Just let me love you.”

And then I knew. The risk could never outweigh the reward because the reward was unconditional love.

How could I turn that down? It was what I’d always wanted. Love with no conditions. No expectations. No forcing myself to fit.

And if Arsen could love me without conditions, then I could do the same.

I guess, in the end, it didn’t matter who our parents were.

Star-crossed lovers we were not because there was no reason big enough to keep us apart.

“One condition,” I whispered.

“Yes.” He was quick to agree.

I smiled. “I didn’t tell you what it was yet.”

“I don’t care what it is. It’s worth the price. It’s worth you.”

Fucking swoon.

“I’ll let you love me unconditionally,” I said, “if you’ll let me love you the same.”

Oh, his smile was blinding. It actually halted the beating of my heart. And we sat there smiling at each other, a moment stolen from time.

Turns out I wasn’t rearranging my life for him. I was watching it fall into place.