Page 95 of Vandal Unbound

But here, where the garden is quiet except for the chorus of frogs somewhere out in the marsh, where the air smells like cooked grass, I want to believe it with my whole heart.

Neither of us has spoken for several minutes. We’ve simply sat here, processing what we just talked about, while his hand moves slowly up and down my arm.

I know Vandal is giving me time to find my own words, but unfortunately my brain appears determined to make that impossible.

“You ever wish you could just switch your mind off?” I ask.

His chest rumbles beneath my cheek. “You got a racing brain?”

“Every damn day.”

The conversation we had earlier keeps replaying. Pieces of my past, the things I said out loud. Some things I wish I could suck back in because they aren’t Vandal’s burden to carry.

“I’m tired,” I admit. “But I know if I go to bed right now, I won’t be able to sleep because all these things will just keep circling in my mind until I’m one step away from a panic attack.”

Vandal huffs at that. “I know that feeling. It wasn’t so much that I wanted the booze and the pills. In fact, I hated being that out of control and out of character. But there were some nights, hell, there were someweekswhere it felt like I wouldn’t sleep unless something would knock me out.”

“So, you aren’t an addict? Or weren’t before?”

Vandal shrugs. “Saying I’m not feels disingenuous, yet saying I am doesn’t feel like the whole story. It’s more like there was a period in my life that became too hard to get over without assistance, and I just chose the wrong kind of help.”

I raise my hand to his cheek. “You know you can talk to me when things feel too big to carry on your own.”

He places his lips to mine and kisses me gently. “You simply being here makes me feel big enough to carry whatever I need to.”

“Tomorrow, maybe, I’ll remind you that it’s good to talk, no matter how big or strong you are.”

He kisses me again, his hand gripping my hip as he does. Something in me stirs, a pulsing at my core. But I’m stuck in my past too much to fully embrace it.

“Vandal?”

“Yeah, sweetheart.”

“I know it sounds cliché, but I think I need a night with you where you don’t give me the chance to think about anything.”

He takes my chin between his thumb and forefinger and tilts my head to look at him. I can feel heat creep up my cheeks at saying that to him, but he shakes his head.

“Don’t ever feel embarrassed asking me for what you want, because nothing would make me happier than giving you whatever it is. But before I make assumptions, I’d rather you just be clear in what it is you need.”

“Don’t make me say it.”

Vandal kisses me again. Harder this time. His tongue meets mine, and I can’t help the moan that escapes me.

Then, as suddenly as he started, he stops. “As you so rightly pointed out, we still don’t know each other all that well. And I don’t wanna do anything you don’t consent to, or worse, anything that will hurt you. So I want you to be explicit. And trust me, it’s really fucking hot when you are.”

“I want you to take me. Violate me. I want it to be messy and hard and hot. But quiet. Because we can’t wake Elsie.”

Vandal touches my cheek tenderly, even as I feel his cock growing hard beneath me. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”

“Oh, and does your bedroom door have a lock on it?”

“No. It doesn’t. Yet. But I’ll drag the dresser in front of it if it will make you happy.”

He stands then, lifting me into his arms.

“I can walk,” I remind him.

“I know you can, but where would be the fun in that.”