Page 57 of Shattered In Darkness

There’s nowhere to stand that doesn’t feel exposed. I cross my arms tight over my tits, but he just smirks. We get in his car and wait. It smells like him. I remember pressing my face into his neck back when we were teenagers, inhaling that smell.

Brody sits close, so close I can feel the heat coming off him. My bare leg almost touches his thigh. I try not to shake. He stretches one arm behind me, his hand gripping the headrest. There’s a tension in him. It’s a coiled menace.

“NorthLine. You ever heard of them before?” He says it casual, but nothing about Brody is casual.

I shake my head. “Nope.”

He watches my face. I feel him searching for something under my skin, like he could see right through me if he tried hard enough.

He leans in a little, his breath warm in my ear. “They work a lot of shady jobs for rich assholes. You should stay away from guys like that.”

His voice drags across my nerves. I stare ahead, jaw tight. “I don’t pick my mechanics based on their morals, Brody.”

He laughs. “You never did.” His hand shifts closer, grazing my thigh. I feel his pulse through the fabric, hard and relentless. He glances at me sideways. “You should be more careful where you park. Not everyone’s safe at night, Lola.”

His words don’t feel like a comfort. In fact, they feel like a threat. Like he is taunting me.

I whip my head around. “This isn’t my fault.”

He smiles, too cold, too hungry. “It never is, right?”

Heat flares between us. I turn away, fist clenching on my purse. “I can take care of myself.”

He snorts. “Sure. That’s why you’re here, dressed like that, begging me for a ride.”

I look down at myself. The top, the way my boobs look obscene under the dim car light. I want to disappear.

“I didn’t ask you for a commentary on my outfit.”

He shrugs, but his eyes are devouring me. “You dress to be seen. You always did. I just didn’t realize you liked an audience so much, Bambi.”

I tense up. “Don’t call me that.”

He leans closer. “What, you want ‘good girl’? Or do you only answer to whore now that you’re a model?”

The slap comes before I think about it. My palm cracks against his cheek. He doesn’t flinch. Just blinks, like it amused him. His hand closes around my wrist before I can move it back. Tight enough to hurt, tight enough that I gasp. Before I can react, he yanks me onto his lap.

He brings my hand to his mouth, presses my knuckles to his lips, then lowers it onto his thigh, keeping it there. His grip doesn’t loosen.

He murmurs, “You can hate me all you want. You still want it just as bad.”

I could scream. I could claw his eyes out. Instead, I hold perfectly still and stare him down. “You don’t know anything about me anymore, Brody.”

He tilts his head, gaze flicking from my mouth to my chest to my eyes again. “Liar.”

I can’t breathe.

He leans in, voice barely above a whisper. “You’re lying about something. I know you are. You’ve got that look. Same as you always did when you were hiding something from me. You want me to dig it out of you?”

I jerk my hand free. “I want you to fuck off.”

His hand is on my thigh again, this time closer to the edge of my panties. I feel the heat of his palm through the thin fabric of my skirt.

He looks at me, really looks. His lips brush my ear. “If I got you under me right now, you’d beg for it. You’d scream my name so loud the whole block would know you’re still mine. I’d make you cum so fucking hard, then I’d leave you like you left me.”

He’s hard. I can see the outline pressing against his zipper. I’m wet, I hate that I’m wet, but I am. Despite how cruel his words are, I’m still wet. He slides his hand up, cups my tit, thumb hard over my nipple through the lace of my bra. I gasp.

“You want to be fucked like a slut, Bambi? Or do you want to pretend you’re still better than that?” He squeezes, hard enough to leave marks.