Page 40 of The Protection Agreement

“Jola!” he shouts.

I don’t respond. “Jola, open the door please.”

I don’t respond. My eyes are teary, but I refused to let it take over. He rejected me is all my mind keeps repeating.

I grab my bag, take my pill out and swallow it.

“Goodnight, Bruce. I have taken my pill. I’m sorry, it won’t happen again.”

“Jola, please, open the door.” He rattles the handle.

“It’s okay, Bruce. I’m not upset. Goodnight. I’m going to bed.” I get in bed and I hear him saying Fuck.

Pulling my pillow close to me, I try not to cry and start reciting the periodic table to calm my mind. It blocks out my pain till the meds take over and I sleep

Chapter twenty-six

Bruce

Three fucking days; I haven’t seen her awake or heard her laugh or giggle. I’ve only seen her when she’s asleep or pictures that I had Ice take and send to me when she is laughing with Chef. Three days; I haven’t slept because she’s not on the sofa. The sofa is perfectly made and staring empty at me. I’ve come home early and, each day, I find Ice alone, saying she’s in bed. When he’s leaving, I go in to check on her, and I know she has taken her pill and will not hear anything I say. I fucked up. She offered herself, but I wanted us to talk first. I needed her to know a few things because, once I laid claim to her, she belongs to me and no one else, but I messed up.

Today, I’m home at six, since Ice tells me she goes to bed between seven and eight. My team has been quiet around me. I snapped and yelled at them all day. I can’t sleep, can’t work, can’t even eat any food without it tasting like cardboard. She’s all I think about. If I thought she cast a spell on me before, she fucking owns my soul now. Ice is surprised to see me when I walk in at six p.m. I know they were framing the complete puzzle. She doesn’t acknowledge me, just keeps her focus on the task of framing the puzzle. Once she is done, she hands it to Ice, who looks happy and bids,

“Bye, Lexi; bye, boss,” and heads for the door.

“Bye, Ice,” she says, smiling. Once the door closes, we stand in awkward silence.

“Hi, Jola,” I say.

“Hi, Bruce. Chef left your dinner in the oven as usual,” she says and starts to clean up the supplies. I move to stand in front of her, and watch her stoic face, unsure how to break this wall between us.“I need to talk to you, Jola.”

“About?” she asks without looking at me.

“The other night.” She stills for a moment; I hear a scoff.

“There’s nothing to talk about. I received your message of rejection loud and clear. Like I said, it won’t happen again,” she mutters, not meeting my eyes.

“I didn’t reject you.” My response is immediate as I try not to grunt my frustration. I sigh, knowing I need to fix us. The last three days have felt like hell with the way she has meticulously avoided me.

“I was there, remember?” Her voice stern, with an exaggerated eye roll, questioning my memory.

“And I think it’s best we do not talk about it. I understand your stance, and I completely accept it,” she says in finality. Only, I’m not done.

“Well, I want to talk about it,” I volley; my voice sounds nervous. Fuck, why am I nervous? This was always easy for me, I could reject any woman and not give a fuck, yet I’m ready to beg her to just fucking look at me.

“Suit yourself,” she says, dismissive. I move closer to take her hand. She instinctively pulls from my touch. I sigh, realizing how deeply rejected she must feel. On the tip of my tongue are the words ‘I’m sorry’, but I also realize it would mean I’m agreeing with her assertion of rejection when, in fact, that wasn’t what I had in mind.

“I apologize for my action, but the intention wasn’t rejection.” She sighs, maintains her distance, and keeps her eyes focused on the supplies. “I deeply want you, but I couldn’t act on my feelings without you knowing the depths of my being, and what you would experience if you chose to accept me.” I pause, taking a breath as she turns to face me.

“I can be obsessive,” I admit. “And I know I would be possessive.” You are already a bit possessive. “And jealousy would crawl out of me with every casual flirtation of yours, even with Ice.” Her brows arch, a silent question etched on her face. I move closer to her; this time she doesn’t step away, but avoids my eyes.

“I wanted you to know before we went further that I won’t share you with anyone, not even Jonah,” I say, and she rolls her eyes at me. My heart is racing as I take both her hands in mine and place her right hand on my racing heart and left on my hard-on. The feel of her hand there makes it stiff. “Is this the body of a man that’s rejecting you, or one that wants you badly, though making herculean effort to keep it controlled?” I ask, but she doesn’t say anything, only looks up to meet my eyes. I see longing in her eyes; I also see her inner struggle. “I won’t share what’s mine. Not even your winks will be shared.” Her eyes bulge. I step back, which surprises her. “I also have a big appetite,” I say. “I need you to know everything before we take this step.” Again, not a word from her. “I’ll be in my room. If you understand, then you can get in my bed with me; otherwise, you take the sofa.” I turn and head to my room with a very raging ache between my legs. I enter my room and close the door, my heart pounding and my thoughts fighting for some control. I’m losing control; if she rejects me and takes the sofa, then I’m going to fucking die every day. I sit on my bed and take my shirt off; my body is heated. I take deep breaths to control it, but it’s not working. Please accept me, I mentally plead.

The door quietly opens; my gaze locks on her. I exhale a breath that I didn’t realize I was holding. She moves slowly towards me; I can hear my heart pounding in my chest. The air in the room hangs still, thick and unmoving. Standing before me, she uses her knees to spread my legs and settles in between. Her brown eyes hold mine in a way that keeps me rooted in my position.

“I don’t share either, but we would have to tame that jealousy, because I can’t control a wink, darling.” Her tone is honeyed. “I don’t know what my appetite level is, and I haven’t had sex in at least twenty-four months, so a buildup would be nice.” I’m staring at her in awe, my ribcage might burst open at the rate at which my heart is erratically pounding.

“Those are my terms; do you accept?” My dick is fucking stiff as a rock; her floral scent is already controlling my senses, and my desire is about to be unleashed.