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I snort. “Do you think I'm an idiot? All you want is to get my attention off this fucker. I’m not stupid.”
Realizing her words are not enough, her small hand trails up my chest, and it takes everything in me not to lean in, sink into these feelings, and let them be more. Not when she's only touching me to protect this asshole.
It makes me more inclined to rip his head off and shit down his throat.
A hard slap lands against my back, the impact vibrating through my muscles, and out of the corner of my eye, I catch a flash of curls and wide-ass shoulders belonging to one of my friends. Aries. Always the peacemaker. He leans in, smiling.
"Come on, man. Go talk to your girl. I'll take care of this asshole for you."
It's a ruse. I know it. He knows it. Even Harvey knows it. He'll toss him out on his ass and let him run, but he won't be punished as much as I want. It’s a battle of choosing what I want more—to talk with Bel and make her understand there is no other option but me or to beat this asshole ten feet into the ground.
I glance down at Bel, and even as her voice has softened and her touch burns across my skin, she's still wearing that defiant-as-fuck look, daring me to walk away and let it go. That’s fine, though. Harvey’s punishment can be given to her instead. I shift my hand to Harvey's face and give him a shove. Stumbling backward, he nearly trips over his own feet. As soon as he realizes he’s free, he scurries out of the room without looking back.
Coward. Logically, I know he didn’t do anything wrong. It's more about looking weak and teaching Bel a lesson.
Aries gives us his signature grin, all pearly white teeth, then snags a bottle of alcohol off the counter and follows him.
Alone, or as close to alone as we’re going to get, I tug Bel closer. "You should be happy. I let him go for you."
Those defiant eyes shine, tipping me over the fucking edge. I’m done.
With my patience slipping, I tighten my grip and tug her toward the back door. She barely resists, stumbling over her feet a little too easily along the way.
I’m not sure how much she drank before I arrived, but it’s obvious it was enough to make her think she could get away with this ludicrous shit. I push the back door open and pull her outside behind me. The cold night air greets us, and the refreshing feel of it on my skin helps to clear away some of the anger clouding my thoughts.
I only stop once we reach the tree line of the woods, putting us far enough away from the house that I can finally hear myself think. There’s no one but us and the quietness now. Turning on her, I take her by both arms and gently press her back against one of the towering oak trees. I force myself to be gentle when what I really want is to take her over my knee and spank her ass until it’s cherry red.
The second her back meets the trunk, Maybel charges at me. Only my football training and reflexes, grown at the hands of my father’s abuse, allow me to catch her wrists before she makes contact with my neck or face.
"Let go of me," she screeches, and I tighten my grasp. The hand bared in claws relaxes, but the other, with the bottle clutched tight, still holds on.
All I can think then is… What happened to my flower?
My subconscious takes a second to remind me.
You smashed her into a million fucking pieces.
"If you stop trying to attack me, then I can let you go, but if you’re going to continue being crazy, I’ll have to restrain you for both our safety.”
Eyes narrowed to slits, she moves closer, her chest pressing into mine. I think she's relaxing, and my own grip goes lax as I prepare to release her, but it’s a mistake on my part because all it does is give her room to pull her hand back, giving her the momentum she needs to slap me. My head swings to the sides from the impact.
I grit my teeth and recover quickly, anger seeping into my veins. With lightning-fast reflexes, I wrap my hand around the column of her throat and give it a little squeeze, becoming mesmerized by the fear that slips into her eyes. I crave her fear, her submission. I get off controlling her every breath, and I know it’s fucked up and wrong, but I don’t care.
"I know I hurt you. I fucking get it, but don't fucking hit me. That’s your warning, Bel. Do it again, and I’ll put you on your knees."
I release her before I do something crazy, like strangle her until she passes out. Maybe if I kidnap her and trap her somewhere, I can seduce her with enough orgasms to forgive me?
Or piss Sebastian off enough to kill me.
The fear trickles away from Bel, and she’s glaring at me again. I take a step back, hoping some distance might cool her off, but she charges forward again, her hand back ready to land another hit. The thing is, I’m sober, faster, and I’ve been beat the majority of my life.
She’s lost the battle before she’s even tried. I sidestep her hit, and she misses me, and her hand flies through the air, making a swishing sound. The sting in my cheek reminds me of the first strike she got on me, and when she tries a third time and misses again, I can’t help but wonder how she thinks this will fix things.
"What are you doing, Maybel? Is this going to help you? Will hurting me fix us?”
I’m close to making good on my promise of putting her on her knees, but I hesitate, wanting to give her a chance. She huffs and takes a long swig of her vodka, which she has somehow managed to keep in her hands, her body remaining upright. Swallowing it down, she continues to glare, her warm breath billowing out in little clouds of smoke.
"I can’t believe you would ask me such a stupid question. One measly slap is not going to make up for all the pain you caused me.”
