Read Give Me Desire (Reason Series) for Free Online

and his accent is thick.  
    I step back slowly toward the stool. I need to sit; my thoughts are swirling at a mile a minute. I can't speak. He's already given me so much. He saved my life. This just...it's too much.  
    "Vivienne, I needed to know that you'd be safe, that you'd stay safe, that I could give you the tools you needed to get back on your feet. Clothes, food, a job - whatever you need, it's yours."
    I can barely hear him by the end of his speech. Eventually I get my mouth working again. "Why?" I breathe.  
    He runs his hands through his hair and pulls away from the door, slowly walking toward me. "Because..." He pauses in his stride, clearly deciding something. "Because you deserve it. There is no reason for you to live a life of poverty if I can easily prevent it."  
    "That's not what I asked. Do you do this for every girl in my situation?"
    He shakes his head. His eyes are wary, unsure of my reaction. He should be unsure. He knows how much I don't want to be taken care of. Yes, I've progressed some in allowing him to bring me here, to give me shelter, food.... Are clothes really that much worse? I mean, I don't have any, and whatever clothes I had in my apartment should be burned.  
    He's wanting and willing to help me, and I push him away at every turn. Is it so terrible to let someone help me? No, it’s not. But it's hard; I've fought for so long on my own that I don't know how to do this.  
    He watches me as I take in his words. The reality of what he's said sets in. Maybe he's right: Maybe I've been fighting for so long to prove that what my mother has put me through hasn't broken me. But for whom? Who am I trying to prove this to? I get fighting for myself, but for what else?  
    Am I trying to show my mother, prove something to her? For what? She's never been there for me. By doing it all on my own, was I just trying to prove that I don't need her, that I didn't need her? Or is it more than that? Am I really just being stubborn? It's hard to let go of everything I've done for myself, but what have I really accomplished? A shit job, a shit apartment, barely surviving.... How is that living?  
    I let out a deep sigh.  
    I wasn't living. I was alive, but not living.
    I look at Mikah, whose face shows that he’s worried about what I'm mulling over. The bottom line is this: I’ve obviously failed miserably at proving to myself that I can take care of myself. Maybe with a little help from him, I can get back on my feet, get back into a better place.  
    "Thank you," I finally manage to say, and his face and body instantly relax and a slow smile spreads across his lips.
    "You're not mad?"
    I shake my head slowly. "No, I'm not."
    "Good. Okay." He's not sure what to say, as if I've taken away all his argument. "Are you still hungry?" I roll my eyes and he playfully scowls at me.  
    "Changing the subject much?" I tease him back.  
    He laughs. "Maybe a little." He looks at me expectantly.  
    "No, I'm alright for now."  
    "Good. I'll clean up the kitchen. What would you like to do?" His eyes follow mine toward the guest bedroom as I remember the huge, inviting bathtub in there. "Take a bath?" he asks.  
    I nod enthusiastically, and he turns on his heel.  
    "Why don't you go find some comfortable clothes, and I'll start your bath before I clean up."  
    I stand and head for the bedroom, hitting the light switch on my way in. I hesitate just a moment at the closet door, suddenly nervous about what I’m going to find in there. Then I realize that I've agreed to this, and I turn the handle at the same time I hit the light switch on the wall next to the door.  
    The closet is huge - about the size of the bathroom and equally as long - but thankfully it's not stocked full. Hanging up on the right-hand side are about ten different t-shirts, and below them are various pairs of pants, cotton ones by the looks of them. I also catch a glimpse of the dresser at the back of the closet, its top drawer slightly