She hates him. She who is used to sweetly whispered artfully woven words that speak of valour and romantic love. She who was the sheriff's daughter would have once looked at his bumbling crude ways and would have smiled and ignored him. He promises riches and respect, a home and family, of peace and comfort to hide behind and ignore all the things that are wrong and cannot change.
She is the one who seeks him out first, she who makes sure to wring as much pleasure and sensation as she can and take all the petty revenge the light of day won't permit.
In the strength of his arms when he lifts her to straddle his waist, she hates how facile it is to disappear when she is so exposed, when his body is grinding along hers.
She hates that he doesn't regret hurting her, burning her home, keeping her prisoner, punishing her opinions. He squeezes her hips so hard she will be bruised in the morning. His sharp teeth will have left their mark on her flesh.
That when he strokes her hair and sighs against her neck, he will painfully tighten his grip on her scalp, and viciously ram inside her in the particular angle that won't bring any pleasure.
Sometimes she thinks he enjoys this cruelty. It's a relief that unlocks her burgeoning orgasm. She hates how the glow fades as soon as she realizes it's just more punishment for not returning the tenderness.
She hates his guilty glances whenever he chooses the sheriff over her. He's saying "I'm sorry" when he comes and "I love you," and she hates wanting to believe it. She hates drifting away to the lull of his whispery excuses warming her skin.
She hates that he's always somewhere close by. She ignores him and he gives her gifts, she is cold and he smiles, she hates him and he wants her.
That she cannot escape him will never be free of him that she can't imagine a life he is not haunting.
Even as she dresses with her back turned to him she hates that he's watching and doesn't ask if she'll come back. They both know she will. She hates that she isn't really in control, that she is only what he allows her to be.
She hates that he does not realise it.
But most of all, the worst of the situation is that it's not enough. He owns her lust and it's not enough. And she hates that he mustn't own her heart as well.
