“This place doesn't skimp on anything, does it?” I mutter to myself. Pausing for a second, I remember that Karson is somewhere in the room behind me. I whirl around to see him leaning against the door frame, one ankle crossed over the otherand his tattooed arms across his chest watching me with a gaze so intense it makes my skin flush. My stomach flutters and I clear my throat.
“I need to use the bathroom,” I tell him. He nods his head to the left.
All but running out the room, I slam the door shut behind me then walk to the vanity. Placing my hands on the countertop that matches the one in the kitchen, I take a deep breath and hold it. I’m overwhelmed. Him dragging me out of the club, punching him in the jaw, the elevator and now this room…my head is spinning. I can feel my insides wanting to curl in on themselves and shut down, but I can't let him see this side of me. The part that’s sad, lonely, terrified of being abandoned, rage filled…pathetic. Over the years I’ve learned how to hide it, and hide it well. Being what everyone else needs me to be, faking it all the time; and when I need to recharge I simply shut down entirely. It’s exhausting, but right now shutting down is not an option. I can get through tonight, and handle it in the morning when I run from this hell.
“It’s just one night,” I whisper, staring at my reflection in the mirror.
After using the bathroom and splashing my face with cold water, I step back into the bedroom to find it empty. Walking out, I head back into the main living area and see the balcony door is cracked. I stand behind the couch, watching Karson lean over the railing, his body shrouded in a cloud of smoke and his phone pressed to his ear. I can hear his voice but can't make out the words. His back muscles are tense through his black t-shirt, and my eyes wander from the tops of his not-too-broad shoulders down to the taper of his lean waist. He must sense me, because he peers over his shoulder, then hangs up the phone. Emerging from behind the couch, I steel my nerves and decide to join him outside. As I get closer though, my mind is at war withitself. I can feel my resolve start to crack once again, after a year of managing to keep him at arm's length. The stone where my heart used to be cracks, and my brain screams to hold the line. To stand firm.
Being a vessel for two organs that are vital for survival that are constantly at war with each other is infuriating. As I cross the threshold of the balcony, the motherfucker smiles at me. Not his usual smile that’s twisted and makes people shudder. But a soft, lopsided one that makes my heart stutter.
Well shit.
“Hey, doll,” his eyes are soft and voice is low, gentle almost, and it pisses me the fuck off.
“I want to go home, Karson. Take me home,” I demand.
All softness disappears from his eyes, quickly overtaken by the hurricane.
Yes. This I know what to do with. This I can handle.
“Not happening.”
“So we’re adding kidnapping to the very long list of reasons why I fucking hate you? Classy, Karson,” I scoff and cross my arms. “That’s fine, I’ll ask Cole to take me home.” Giving him my back, I turn to enter the penthouse again, but he wraps his arm around my waist, hauling me off of my feet. He spins me around in his arms and pushes me up against the balcony.
“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” he asks incredulously. I’m lifted off my feet once again and he plops me on the ledge of the concrete wall, my only safety at this height is a metal railing that meets my lower back. Panic rises in my throat as his arm flies to it.
“What did I tell you? You’re staying here,” he grits. I feel my body being pushed backwards. “And you’renotgoing back down there.” My arms flail as I try to grip his arm but he swats them down, forcing them to my sides.
“And that fucker sure as hell willnot.take. you. home.” He pushes me back more with each word slowly. I try to look down out of the corner of my eye, terror washing over me when I realize the position I’m in. I’m dangling from the twenty-sixth floor balcony, myonlysafety net is the fucking psycho holding me here. I kick my legs, trying to make contact with any part of him I can, but he swats my outer thigh. He steps between my legs then wraps them around his waist.
“K-Karson,” I try to reason with him but cough when his hold tightens. With one arm, he lifts me up slightly, enough so our eyes slam into each other.
“Trust. Me.” he says, calm and controlled. My head spins some more. Both from the realization that if he lets me go, I’m dead, and his rapid mood swings. I search his gaze, tears pooling in the corner of my eyes. He says nothing else, only watches me. I fight some more, trying to lift myself back up, but he effortlessly holds me in place. “Trust me, Ashlynn.” His voice softens again, and it’s then I realize that he has perfect control of my body.
A tear falls down the side of my cheek, plummeting to my potential concrete resting place. My body stills, and I slowly nod my head the best I can. He quickly pulls me back up, slides me off the concrete, then gently places my feet back on the ground. Letting out an exhausted sigh, he picks me up, cradling me to his chest and carries me back inside. Putting me down on the couch, he walks to the kitchen and comes back with a bottle of water. I take it silently, and let the ice-cold water ease the ache that’s starting in my throat.
He sits next to me and brushes a few stray locks from my forehead. His touch is tender as his fingers ghost down the side of my face and trail to my shoulder. The touch leaves a trail of molten lava in its wake despite its tenderness and I look up at him through my lashes confused.
He offers me a small smile, and cups my cheek. As if sensing my body is starting to enter thefleestage, his thumb caresses the side of my neck before he speaks.
“You can sleep in the bedroom. I’ll sleep in the other one.” He nods to the door next to the television.
“Cole is bringing up your things. Why don’t you go take a shower and get in bed? I’ll have your phone in there before you’re out.”
I nod, my brows furrow slightly at his mention of my phone and why he felt the need to be that specific, but I don't question him.
“Thank you,” I whisper and take another sip of water. Raising from the couch, I exit the living room, head straight for the bathroom and start the shower—which of course comes out of the ceiling. I roll my eyes.
Undressing and stepping into the shower, I stare blankly at the wall until the water runs cold. I was just suspended off of a balcony, and while initially I reacted out of fear, I realize something that causes my heart to sink in my chest.
He would haveneverlet me fall.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
A heavy silence surrounds me,yanking me violently upright, my heart throbbing in my ears. My hands fly to my chest, catching the sheets that are too soft, too warm and stuck to my sweaty skin. My back goes rigid as I look down. Peeling the material off of me, I rub it between my fingers, brows pulling together.
Not mine.
