Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 127146 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 636(@200wpm)___ 509(@250wpm)___ 424(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127146 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 636(@200wpm)___ 509(@250wpm)___ 424(@300wpm)
"What's that look, Bel?"
I swallow. "Nothing." Knowing he won't buy it, I scan his face, now that I can see it, so close to mine. I spot the newly forming bruise on his cheek, the swollen skin. Did someone hit him? Or did he get that at football practice?
Gently, I reach for him and brush my finger across the tender flesh. "What's this?"
There's an instant change in him. His body goes rigid, and he shoots to stand, towering over me, his eyes downcast on his lowly subject. The behavior change gives me whiplash, and I don't know if I should cuss him out or beg him to tell me the truth.
"It’s none of your fucking business, that’s what it is. Go to bed. I’ll see you soon." I stand, but he grabs my wrist, his fingers pressing into the sensitive flesh there. Then as if to bring his point home, he squeezes as if warning me. “Remember what happened the last time you put your nose where it wasn’t needed?”
Yeah, I came face-to-face with a new kind of crazy.
Still, regardless of how he treats me or how hot and cold he gets, a tiny piece of my heart aches for him. It wouldn't surprise me if someone is hurting him because his attitude and behaviors coincide with that possibility. Still, a part of me thinks I can reach the darkness inside him and shed light on it. It’s a mistake, but one I willingly make. With my other hand, I grab his hand, ignoring the pain radiating up my arm.
“I’m not the enemy, Drew, no matter how many times you try to make me or tell yourself that I am. I was asking because that’s what good people do. They step in and try to help if they see something bad happening.”
Drew’s features harden to stone. “I don’t want your pity, nor do I need it. I won’t bore you with my problems, and even if I did tell you what’s going on, there would be nothing you could do. Believe it or not, you can’t save everyone.”
“I’m not trying to save you. I’m just trying to help in whatever way I can.”
“And you are, by letting me fuck you every single way I want without complaint.”
My heart sinks into my stomach, and I drop my hand, the connection between us fading. He releases my wrist, and I hold it to my chest, rubbing the spot he just held. Those smoldering eyes of his follow my movements, and I swear I see a twinge of guilt there.
Is he sorry for hurting me? Maybe, but he doesn’t seem like he wants to apologize.
I think back to that saying my mother once told me when I was being bullied at school because of my glasses. Hurt people hurt people? That seems closer to the truth here.
“Well, I guess I’m of no service today then.” I take a step back. “There will be no use of my body without complaint.”
“It wouldn’t take much to get you ready and willing. Plus, your mouth would be too occupied to air your complaints.” The way he drags his gaze over my body’s length is calculating and sinister.
My heart hammers against my rib cage, and I can feel us heading toward an impasse. I won’t be a doormat for him to step on. If he doesn’t want to talk, fine, but that doesn’t mean I have to put out either.
“I think you should leave,” I demand.
“Oh really? I could always make you… a little manipulation… It's done the trick before.”
“Keep telling yourself that, but I know more than anything, my fear of you is the driving force of your pleasure. Except you don’t want me to be so afraid of you that you have to force me to do anything. You want real fear, but you don’t want to break me, and forcing me to have sex with you would break me, so the choice is yours.”
His full lip curls with disgust, and I watch his meaty paw clench and unclench. Anger simmers just beneath the surface. He knows I’m right yet doesn’t want to admit it.
“Until next time, then,” he snarls and turns on the heels of his shiny dress shoes, walking to the door. He opens it and slams it shut behind him. I rush forward and click the lock into place. How did he get in? It never occurred to me until this very moment to question how he got in. I was sure I had locked the door, but I don’t know now. I slowly walk backward until my legs meet the table's edge, and I sink my hips against it.
All over again, I’m left spinning in the wake of his turbulence and have to ask myself what the hell am I doing trying to defeat a man like him? He's a monster, a playboy bent on using and abusing. I can’t be the person to fix him, yet I can’t be the person to watch him drown either. I don’t know what to fucking do.