Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 113272 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 566(@200wpm)___ 453(@250wpm)___ 378(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113272 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 566(@200wpm)___ 453(@250wpm)___ 378(@300wpm)
Vicious rubbed his jaw, kicking my door shut behind him. “If you wanted my attention, congratulations, you’ve got it. Now break this Dean bullshit off.”
I flung the blanket to the floor and bolted to my feet. My sweater slid down one shoulder, and my plain white bra peeked out. I was too agitated to care. I pushed him with all the strength I could muster, not even a little worried about the consequences. His broad back bumped against the wall, but his expression remained cool.
I took a step back, placing my hands on my hips. “What’s your problem with me, huh? What have I ever done to deserve this? I don’t go in your house. I don’t look you in the eye when I see you at school. I don’t talk to you or about you. But it’s not enough for you. Look, I don’t want to be here either, okay? I never signed up to live in Todos Santos. That’s all on my parents. They need the money. We need the money. Rosie has an illness and health care’s better here, not to mention this place is rent-free. Tell me what you want me to do that doesn’t require my family being homeless, and I’ll do it, but for Lord’s sake, Vicious, leave me alone!”
I wasn’t sure exactly when I began to cry, but hot, fat tears ran down my cheeks. I think I must have boiled to the point of overflow. I didn’t like that he was seeing me like this, vulnerable and broken, but hoped it would inspire him to be a little less hateful to me.
His eyes dragged slowly from the mural to me, his stare still vacant.
I raked my fingers through my hair, frustrated. “Don’t make me be mean,” I muttered. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Break up with him,” he repeated, curt. “Make it stop.”
“Make what stop?” I frowned.
He squeezed his eyes shut. “Emilia,” he warned.
About what, I didn’t know. But for once, he didn’t refer to me as Help.
“He makes me happy.” I stood my ground, because who the hell was Vicious to tell me who to date?
“He’s not the only one who can make you happy.” He opened his eyes, and pushing off the wall, he took a step in my direction.
My skin was on fire, and I knew what would soothe the burn away, like an aloe balm, but it was wrong. So wrong. So was him ordering me to stop dating Dean.
Then why does a part of me feel pleased?
“Ask me what I want again,” he snapped. His voice was ice rolling on my skin, leaving uncomfortable shivers of pleasure in its wake.
“No.” I started walking backward, still facing him. He followed me. A predator stalking his prey, and he had the physical and psychological advantage over me.
I was about to become his next meal, and I had no doubt in my mind—he was going to devour me.
“Ask,” he breathed, my back had hit the opposite wall and his arms came up around me, caging me in. I was trapped, and not only physically. I knew there was no way out, even if he’d stepped aside.
“What do you want?” I gulped. I wanted him to make it stop too, and I wasn’t even sure what it was. But it was there. I felt it too.
“I want to fuck you and watch your face while I do. To see how you drown in me as I hurt you as much as it hurts me to have to see your goddamn face every day.”
I sucked in a breath. Not sure how to respond, I raised my hand to slap him across the face. He captured my wrist, stopping me before my palm reached his cheek, and shook his head slowly.
“You need to earn the right to slap me, Pink. And you’re not there yet.”
Pink. My heart stuttered.
I was horrified that he affected me this way. It seemed like no matter what he said to me, he always left a dent. In my brain. In my thoughts. Making me dissect him. But with him here, admitting to wanting to have sex with me… something changed.
We were flush against each other, and I was drunk on his scent and high on his face, and oh my Lord, I knew we hadn’t done anything, but it felt so much like cheating. Self-loathing made my stomach churn. I wiggled my wrist free, trying to push past him. But he wouldn’t let me go.
“Ask me what I want,” he ordered again, his pupils so wide his eyes were almost completely black.
He was following me again, matching me step for step. My wrist was still clasped in his hand, and a part of me wanted to know what it’d feel like to fall into his claws. But this chase was going to end soon.