Total pages in book: 206
Estimated words: 192184 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 961(@200wpm)___ 769(@250wpm)___ 641(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 192184 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 961(@200wpm)___ 769(@250wpm)___ 641(@300wpm)
He touched my face. I flinched. He continued. “Don’t pull away. I know my pop had no right to give you to me, but he did, and I know it makes me a bad guy that I agreed to it. But, I’m not giving you back. And I’m not sorry that I took you. You’re the best thing in my life, baby. How can I feel bad about that? Try to forget how we got started and just…” He stopped talking for a moment and took a deep breath. “Let me take care of you. I’ll protect you with my own life. You know that’s the truth.”
I shook my head, determined not to let his sweet little speech penetrate my suit of armor. “What choice do I have, right? I have no choice.”
He stood up and reached for my hand. “How about you choose to forget how we started and just give this a chance?”
I shook my head. “Just bury my emotions and forget everything you’ve done? It doesn’t matter as long as I obey you, right? It doesn’t matter how I feel about it as long as I do it, right?”
I got up without taking his hand and started to walk past him, but he stopped me by shackling my wrist with his hand and then he pushed me back against a tree and pinned me with his hips.
“I care about how you feel, baby. We have something,” he said. “Don’t let your anger at him take away from what you’re feeling for me. Don’t feel bad for wanting to be with me because you think you’re supposed to feel bad.”
“When did I say I wanted to be with you?”
His eyes narrowed.
“When did I ever say that?”
“You’re a damn fine actress if that’s just an act. If you expect me to believe that you haven’t warmed up to me since Mexico...”
“Well you already knew that though, didn’t you? You told me how damn fine I was at acting that night we had that date! It’s your game, man; I’m just a player,” I snapped this using mock quotes in the air at the word ‘date’.
He backed up and folded his arms. “You’re trying to provoke me. You’re trying to provoke me so that I’ll do something to give you a reason to hate me. It won’t work.” He stared deadpan at me.
I huffed and narrowed my eyes. “I already hate you. Can we go? Master? I’m getting eaten alive.”
He smiled at me with a devilish, dangerous smile, flaring nostrils, but holding out his hand. I didn’t take it. I walked ahead of him.
“You’re acting like a child,” he mused.
“Well why don’t you find someone to marry who’s your own age?” I clipped.
He laughed again, but the laugh wasn’t jovial or hearty. He sounded dangerously close to the edge.
I was an idiot for provoking him. An absolute dummy. Soon we’d be alone and what’d he do then? What sort of punishment would he dole out? And his declaration? Those words were trying to melt me, but I was refusing to acknowledge that, and my chest was burning because of it.
Before long, we were back at his bike and he was putting the helmet on my head, fastening the strap. He was staring directly into my eyes and the look on his face was intimidating the heck out of me, but I was trying to not crumble. My chin started to tremble, involuntarily, and I was getting mad at myself because I knew I was going to cry in front of him. Again. I cried when I was angry. I cried when I was sad, happy, frustrated. I cried too fucking much and it never did me any good.
He went from looking like he wanted to inflict pain on me to letting out a sigh and pulling me into an embrace. I tried to pull back, to struggle, but he was too strong so I eventually went limp. He let go before I fell apart again and he got on the bike. I got on behind him and fastened my hands around his waist loosely. He revved it up and then we were off so fast that I had no choice but to hold on tighter. I figured he did that on purpose.
The drive was good for my rage, I think. I settled down a bit. My mind was still plagued with thoughts of Dad’s betrayal and I felt it in my gut, grappling with the fact that my father sold me out.
Riding on the back of a motorcycle with someone felt so subservient. Tommy was in control, just like he’d be if we were in the Jeep or a car or whatever, but we were out in the open and I had to give in, give him control, hold onto him, lean against his body, despite not wanting to. It felt weird, but I analyzed it all the way back. This way of driving was so him.