Mr Reluctant Billionaire || BWWM

Twenty-three

I wake up with Brandon’s arms around my waist, his leg between mine and our bodies pressed against each other. My muscles scream in protest when I try to push him off in an attempt to get out of the bed and a new wave of annoyance hits me when his arms tighten around my waist. He stirs, runs his fingers across my naked stomach before trailing a line down my hips. I freeze, waiting for his breathing to return to normal so I can try again.

“El,” he murmurs when I finally pry his arms off me, his voice unusually low and his hand blindly searching for me. “Don’t leave me.”

My body goes rigid, the butterflies in my belly flutter as my feet connect with the floor and I cast a tentative look at him. His closed eyelids, the wrinkles that appear on his forehead and the rising and falling of his chest call attention to me. I sigh, my decision to sneak out of the room crumbling like my resolve of last night. He always wins, I try to remind myself as my legs swing to the bed, I should not give him that chance again.

But that talk falls on deaf ears. Joining him on the bed, I stiffen when his arm finds its way around my waist, pulling me so close to him that I can feel his breath on my face.

“Don’t leave me, please,” he whispers. My eyes lift to his face, his eyelids are closed, I wait a few seconds more for him to say more but I’m greeted by his light snoring.

Tracing the contour of his nose, I sigh as I feel the anger letting up. I shouldn’t be upset with how rough he was last night, he offered me the option of saying no, I permitted him to do whatever he pleases with my body. But he should have known better. Now, my nipples are numb with pain and my butt sorer than ever. I sigh again and cast another look at his face, I can’t leave him, my new life is here with him. Snuggling into his arm, I rest my head on his chest and bring the duvet up to my chin throwing my leg over his.

“I will never leave you. I love you,” I whisper to his sleeping form. On further thought, I add, “But you are always hurting me. You need to learn to share your troubles with me.”

Covering my mouth to stifle the yawn trying to escape, my eyelids grow heavier with each passing second and I mumble words into his chest as his hand covers my butt. Content to be in my husband’s embrace after hearing his sleepy confession and also giving mine, I let sleep take over me only to be woken by feather kisses on my forehead.

My eyes fly open, in a state of panic, I push Brandon off me to create enough distance between us. He tries to bridge the gap but I am quick to shout, “Stop. Don’t touch me.”

Pain and other emotions flicker in his eyes which scan the length of my naked body and I hurriedly bring the duvet to cover myself. I shift to the other end of the bed, ignoring his naked, hurt self as I pull the duvet along with me. The urge to hug him and apologise is strong, I shake my head and look down at my feet tangled in the bedsheet, trying to draw strength from my inner self. We need to talk; I need to know what happened.

“Are you mad at me?” he asks.

I shake my head without meeting his gaze, mad is not the right word to describe what I feel. “I’m not happy with you. You hurt me again, you hurt me and then you apologise.”

My lips tremble, my eyes water as I try to recall all those times we had sex because he was angry and wanted a release. I should be upset with him and I hate that I am not. The only thing I can feel now is disappointment at myself and him. I encouraged him to use me as a venting tool from the start and now, he has made it a habit. He won’t talk to me.

“Why? Why do you keep hurting me, hurting my feelings?” I ask in a voice barely above a whisper. He tries to reach for me but I stop him with a glare and he raises his hand in surrender. The corner of his lips twitch but I ignore it, we need to have this talk now. “I love having sex with you but I want to be more than your fuck buddy. Please talk to me.”