𝐒𝐲𝐧 ┃𝐁𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞

117. 𝐻𝑖𝑠 𝐹𝑎𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟'𝑠 𝑆𝑜𝑛

Cain

I felt a smack on my chest, the feeling making my dreams chuck me out of my head and I groaned. I blinked in the darkness, a small far too familiar wailing in the next room making me want to end it all. This shit has been non-fucking-stop.

Iris yawned, removing her leg from my torso and turning away from me— taking all of the blanket with her. "It's your turn," she said sleepily.

"No," I muttered with my eyes closed. "It's actually your turn." I moved my arms under my head, preparing to go right back to sleep when I heard the flick of the lamp. I could feel the light against my eyelids and I grimaced, keeping my eyes shut. "Turn it off."

"The light or the crying?" She asked.

I grabbed the pillow from under my head and put it over my face, trying my best to drown out Saint's small screams. Iris and I offered to babysit, but I didn't know this came with the package. I figured he'd be like he always was...chill. He never cried. But that was all he'd been doing for the past three days.

"Both," I said, my voice muffled against the pillow.

"Baby, please." She tugged at the pillow. "I'm tired. I'll go the next two times. Please, just check on him this time."

I cringed at her plea, my insides going to that familiar softness where she was concerned. I used to thrive off women begging, but I hated it from her. If I could take 'please' away from her vocabulary, I would— she was too nice for her own good.

I sighed, tossing the pillow to the side and sitting up wearily. "I don't get why we can't let him cry it out, isn't that shit supposed to be healthy for them?"

I felt the bed shift behind me and felt her arms wrap around my shoulders. She placed a kiss on the back of my neck and I resisted the urge to fall back into bed with her. I closed my eyes, half fighting sleep as I held her clasped hands. "Please."

I cursed under my breath and heard her laugh softly behind me as I removed her arms. She knew exactly what she was doing. I shot her a look as she sat on the bed feigning innocence and holding back a smile. "You're amused, hm?"

"Just a smidge." She pinched her fingers together.

"Hm." I nodded slowly, my eyes falling over her curves. My shirt hugged her body, stopping just past her hips and the sight stirred something in me again. It always did. She used to hate wearing my things, but I loved seeing her in them too much to let her listen to those insecurities.

She shifted in the bed, pulling the blanket up. Her hand flew up, attempting to block my view of her face as she looked away from me. "Stop looking at me, Cain. It's four in the morning. Ogle me when I at least look decent."

I sighed, leaning over her on the bed. I clasped my hand with the one she had up and moved it behind her, pushing it down onto the mattress as our eyes met. With my free hand, I pulled the blanket away from her body and she rolled her eyes at me. "Decent is an insult- don't piss me off this late at night. You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

She raised a brow. "I've been reduced to a thing now?"

I smiled at the sudden boldness and held back the urge to piss her off. "Things are possessions—"

"I'm not a possession."

"You are mine," I said, giving her a straight response. "You belong to me— I possess you. Just as you do me."

She looked at me for a moment, and my smile only grew as I could see her resistance fading. After a moment, she sighed. "Only you could make being called an object sound so sweet."