34| Deprived and Deluded

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Somewhere in the last few hours I was convinced I must have lost my damn mind. From the way this evening with her had begun, to the way she had managed to furrow herself under my skin. Lola had a way about her that so easily attached to the most determined parts of my being, pulling me into her path, dragging me into her every direction, damning us both as we reached a devastating realisation.

The way she looked at me, the way she touched me—the way she kissed me. It was a bone-breaking addiction—plain and simple, a dependency that anchored itself to the neediest parts of my soul and I couldn't get enough of it.

I couldn't get enough of her.

Tonight had only further proved that her resistance towards me was futile as she fell asleep too easily in my arms, like a bird pressed between the jaw of a wolf—making a home in my hold even when my tendency to be delicate always had a way of turning destructive. Still, her warmth wrapped around me in reverence, bringing out the light in the shadows of my soul and the truth I had spent too long trying to hide.

The way I wanted her—the way that I needed her had become a persistent ache in my chest, pulsing with the beat of my heart as I tried my best to reel in my obsession towards her. Nevertheless, her mother's interrogation had a way of digging through this makeshift act I had promised to put on, pillaging through my lies and making me spill out my one unwavering purpose.

In truth—I had never thought much of marriage. It was a contract, a business deal—a piece of paper. It was a decision that had been taken from me, a vow that had been spat on by my father after all he had done to make my mother stop loving him.

In truth, it never held the weight it was supposed to—at least it didn't until I realised I wanted it with her.

It was the only thing that made this darkness worth its weight, the only thing that could convince me to be better.

When I was with her, I wanted nothing more.

When I was with her, my thoughts barely strayed from everything she could give to me—they lingered on her hands and her lips, they got lost in her eyes and drifted downwards along the innermost parts of her thighs, wishing and wanting to be closer, praying that one day she would take care of me the way she did her family, longing for the chance to lay my head against her ribs, letting her run her hands through my hair as she talked to me about a normal life and lulled me into the soft caress of sleep.

If a bullet didn't get to me first, it was the way I wanted to go—knowing that I'd had everything I'd ever wanted, even if it had been fleeting.

It was a craving that clung to my compulsivity, and as the hours passed in her presence the harder it was getting to ignore—and the harder it was getting to leave.

It was stupid and it was dangerous.

I knew it and I understood it, but that didn't stop me from wanting it any less. It didn't stop me from telling her mother I wanted it either, not that I required her permission to have it in the first place. Still, she had been just as shocked as I had been when the words had come out of my mouth, her nervous laughter bridging the gap between my insanity and punching a hole straight through the wall of my secrets.

If Lola had been awake to witness those words, I was sure I would have seen nothing short of horror on her face. She didn't want to be mine, even to think of me as her boyfriend was already too much for her, but to think of me as her husband—

I definitely was losing my damn mind, and it was all her fault.

If she hadn't been so tempting when I'd first met her, if she hadn't managed to tangle herself with my fucking soul, neither of us would have been in this position to begin with and I wouldn't be needing to entertain something so out of reach.

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