"I hate when you throw it in my face to make me do something I don't want to do."
He rolled his eyes and sighed, dragging fingers through his hair. My eyes followed the motion and then snapped back to his face. I was there for a reason.
"What do you want?" he asked.
"I told you. We need to talk. About what happened at the cabin and how things are going to work going forward. Because I don't know about you, but I'm not going to throw away the last six and a half months just because you're jealous."
He cringed at the word, but I didn't take it back. It was jealousy, plain and simple, and it deserved to be called what it was. If he had an issue with that, then it was too damned bad.
"Fine," he said. "Say what you came to say."
I bristled at his tone and the implication that I was the only one who had something they wanted to say. Clearly there were things he was feeling, too, but he was being too pigheaded and stubborn to say them, as always.
I didn't know what to do with him. Half the time I wanted to punch him the face, and the other half I wanted to kiss him senseless. He was so incredibly frustrating, but he made me feel things unlike anyone else I'd ever been with.
I decided to start there. "You drive me nuts, do you know that?" I asked. "It's like pulling teeth with you if you can't be in control of things. This isn't a scene, Killian. You don't have to be in charge. You can just tell me how you feel."
"Right now, I feel annoyed because you've barged into my home to yell at me," he snapped. "And I could honestly do without it."
I rolled my eyes flat out. "Oh please. What were you doing before I got here? Planning to go out to the club, thinking of inviting Eve over? Moping? I'm really curious to know."
He let out a harsh breath and turned away from me. "I'm not getting into this with you."
"Yes, you are," I snapped. "We're doing this and we're doing it now. I don't understand why you have to be such a fucking coward about everything! You always act like you have it all together and nothing can touch you, but the minute you have to talk about how you feel, it all falls apart."
"What did you call me?" he asked, whirling around to pin me with his glare.
“I called you a coward,” I said, leveling it right at him.
And then he started advancing on me, and I swallowed hard, wondering if I’d fucked up.
It wasn't fear I felt as I backed away from him, and I hated that a little. He was angry, eyes glittering with it, and my heart was racing, but I was definitely more excited than I was nervous.
In some small way, I was a bit relieved, because it meant that I trusted him. Usually angry men could be terrifying, but I knew that Killian wasn't going to lash out with anything more than words, and he wouldn't hurt me.
He could be rough in the bedroom, but he was never violent outside of it.
I trusted him, and that was interesting to realize, especially when he was glaring at me and closing in, backing me against the large window that looked out from his penthouse over the city below.
It was a good thing I wasn't afraid of heights.
"Say that again," he said, voice low and almost menacing. "I fucking dare you."
My attention snapped back to the argument we were having. It seemed like all we did was argue these days, and I sighed, reaching up to push hair out of my face. I didn't want to look away from him for a second.
He was like a predator, closing in for the kill, and I wanted to offer him my neck.
But I kept myself centered and grounded, not backing down or giving in.
"I said you're a coward," I repeated, tone even. "You want something, and you're too afraid to ask for it, so you're running around trying to make rules and exceptions and whatever the hell else instead of just using your words like a big boy."
"I already told you how I feel," he snapped at me, hands curled loosely into fists. "I told you I don't want you to see him. I told you I wanted to close this off."
"Yeah, you did. And you said it in the most sanctimonious, 'I make the rules here' way possible. You didn't tell me why."
And I knew I had him with that. Killian was terrible at talking about his feelings unless there was sex involved, and it was an easy out for me.
Because if he never said how he felt, then I didn't have to confront how I felt, and I didn't have to admit that I'd come to like him and the things he did to me more than I ever thought I would.
It was terrifying, in a way. I felt like I had lost a part of myself or become someone I didn't recognize. The old me would have been so happy for someone like Simon.
Someone normal with similar interests. Someone who didn't act like the world owed him something when he went through life.
But the person I was now couldn't be excited by that, apparently. The person I was now was getting turned on by being backed against a window by an angry man, which was all kinds of messed up.
"Because you're mine," Killian snapped finally, voice strained.
I shook my head at him. "No, I'm not."
Something that looked almost like hurt flashed across his face, but he shoved it down in favor of being angry again. I could understand why, but I wasn't done.
"I don't belong to you. We have a contract in place that makes me your wife for the next five months or whatever, but that's a mutual thing. Because you're my husband, too.
