In The Arms Of Danger [Sequel to Make You Mine]

08.

“Why all this?”

“Just 'cause.” Ian's secure arms wrap around my waist. He rests his chin on top of my head before adding,

“I'd hate to see all our hard work go to waste so you might want to eat it.”

#

After breakfast, we received a visitor. Turns out it was Mandy. She's here to babysit Danny because I refuse to leave him with Elaine.

Anyway, during our conversation Ian decided it would be best if I went upstairs to change. We have a couple's counseling appointment at three thirty and if I argue about my attire that will only make us late. And I know how he gets when it comes to punctuality.

“Just think how many assholes are going to stare at you if we go out in public,”

I nod my head, not really wanting to argue. This is what he does. He says things and keeps on going to try to get a rise out of me.

“If you would have just put on what I picked for you then we wouldn't be up here, waiting for you to change,” he sighs impatiently.

With the items in hand,- a pair of skinny jeans and a red sweater- I turn to him. He is currently standing in the doorway with folded arms and narrowed eyes. I notice his attire is subtly casual. His torso is covered in a collard, navy blue shirt while his bottoms consist of khakis. The gray, tweed jacket and navy blue Oxfords completes the ensemble. It doesn't scream wealth, it screams sensible.

“What were you saying?” he chuckles, a tight smirk mocking his lips. This forces me out of my admiring stare.

“It's not going to take me an hour to change. And I thought I could wear what I wanted,” I quip, clearly annoyed.

“You wear what you want around here but not around other people. Got it?”

There's something more in his tone. It's more than controlling. He makes me feel like I'm a scolded child.

“Ian, in case you haven't realized, I am twenty three years old and perfectly capable of dressing myself. I don't need you telling me what to wear or how to wear it,”

“You didn't have them last night but it finally looks like you grew some balls,” he smiles teasingly.

“Don't do that,”

I head over to the bathroom to change, but before I can close the door his body steps in. Forget the fact that I'm doing what he says. No, he is Ian Hunt so he is going to make a point.

“Why the fuck do you always have to argue with me?” his eyes are sharp and demanding while his hands latch onto my already throbbing wrists.

“I'm not arguing! I just want you to trust me! I mean don't you trust me?”

It's bad enough I can't go anywhere or do anything by myself. Ian always has to come. I stay here in this house all day until he and Danny come home. It's a silly he doesn't trust me because I haven't given him a reason not to.

"Yeah," he shrugs passively, "I trust you,"

"Then why-"

"It's them I don't trust, Ava!"

I sink back from his angered outburst. My wrists are still engulfed in his large hands so it's difficult to pull away.

“When my three year old son is telling me that you made plans with the principal without me that's a problem.” his voice is on the edge of shouting while his fingers dig into my bruised flesh. I scream out from the dominating pressure on my wrists.