Anastasia

Nine

I woke up, still against Lincoln's chest. I tried to sit up but his arms blocked me from doing so.

I pushed at his arm but it wouldn't move. I grunted then began to try wake him up.
"Lincoln! Get up!"
I hissed and began to kick my legs.

"Lincoln! Help me!"
I shouted in desperation, I suddenly had the urge to pee. Out of nowhere he quickly sat up and pulled a fucking gun out of fucking nowhere!

I screamed and pulled a pillow over my head. Oh my god he was gonna shoot me? Was I that annoying?

I haven't even had good sex yet! I haven't had kids or fell in love, nothing! And now my fiance is going to kill me.

"Ana?"
He muttered tiredly, pulling the pillow away from my head.
"Please don't shoot me!"
I quickly begged and he sighed.

He looked down at the gun then put it back behind the mattress. So thats where it came from.

"I wasn't going to shoot you. You shouted for help, I thought there was intruders."
He explained and I shook my head. I climbed out of the bed and raced to the bathroom.

I almost peed my pants.

I finished my business then walked out. He stood at the window, his arms crossed over his bare chest. I stood there staring at him in awe.

He had a body sculpted by fucking Micahelangelo. Lincoln's mucles were like works of art.

God this man was goregeous. My eyes squinted and I glared at him. I didn't want to think he was perfect or anything, but I couldn't help myself.

I mean, if I wanted to at least try be happy and live life I had to be attracted to him.

But it felt like I also had to hate him. It was confusing and kind of made me want to cry.

"Ana?"
Lincoln asked and I blinked, he was almost right in front of me.
"I uh-um, uh."
I tried to find something to say but couldn't think of anything.

"Are you ok?"
He asked and I looked away. Fuck him for being so caring, also. He was like the opposite of every mafia man I had ever met.

"Y-yeah, I'm fine."
I replied then stepped away from him. I walked over to the bed and crawled in, pulling the blankets up to my face.

He got into bed next to me and began to do his work. I lay there, the blankets up past my nose, watching him like a weirdo.

I looked away and closed my eyes. His pen scratching against the paper made itself known and I clenched my jaw. I could handle it. I could handle it.

I hissed and grabbed his wrist, again.
"Stooop."
I groaned and he sighed. His other hand grabbed my wrist suddenly and I released his. I tried to pull my wrist away but he wouldn't let go.

He threw his work off the bed and my eyes snapped open. What the hell was he doing?

He tugged on my wrist really hard and pulled me onto his fucking chest. He released my wrist and instead held my hips.

I sat on his abdomen, my head against his chest. I quickly sat up, blushing and glared at him.
"Why did you make me sit like this?"
I asked, my hair falling all around my face.

"Because, you're so easy to manipulate, being so small."
He replied then sudddenly flipped us, so I was on my back. I stared at him, my hair sprawling all around.

He continued to hold my hips as he sat on his knees, his upper body hovering over me.

I gulped and he leaned closer.
"Why are you so nervous around me? One minute you're cuddling me, the next you're avoiding me, why?"
He asked and I stared into his eyes.
"I don't know how I'm suppoused to feel about you."
I confessed and he sighed.