Page 60 of York

And definitely not because I wanted to see York.

Nope.

Because I had that line in the sand. And I was going to stay on my side of it, dammit. No matter how much my body wanted me to leap over it and onto York.

I sighed as I made my way from the shower into my room, pulling on the cutest bra and panty set I owned—for no particular reason at all. Then hemmed and hawed my wardrobe. For the first time in my entire life, I wished I owned something cute and girly. A dress, even.

God, what the hell was wrong with me?

I grabbed a pair of biker shorts and my vintage, well-loved Yellowstone T-shirt, reminding myself that I didn’t need to be pretty for York. Because I wasn’t going to sleep with him again.

With that, I made my way back toward the bathroom to grab my phone.

I’d just closed my hand on it when the lights cut out.

My heart froze.

My breath caught.

It was just a blackout.

When I glanced out the window toward the next apartment building, though, it was lit up.

A blown fuse, then.

My hand was shaking as I slid behind the bathroom door and dialed York’s number.

If it was just a blown fuse, I could just pretend to be checking in.

But if it was not a blown fuse…

“Hey, Runa,” I heard in my ear before the door whipped forward, then slammed so hard into my face, I saw stars.

A cry escaped me as the phone fell from my hand, clattering to the floor, sliding just far enough to be out of reach.

“York!” I shrieked, praying the call hadn’t ended, that he could hear me, that he would come.

But before I could cry out again, a hand grabbed my throat hard enough to make my breath catch, then slammed my head back against the bathroom wall.

Pain exploded through my skull, and my vision swam.

Panic set in as my chest got tight, leaving me clawing at his hands, at his face.

No.

I had to focus.

No pointless scratching.

I needed to inflict actual damage.

That was how I’d gotten away last time.

I used one hand to map his face, then used the other to curl my hand, then drove the heel of my hand as hard as I could into the bastard’s nose.

There was a strange crunching sound, then a yowl of pain.

The hand fell from my throat, and I gasped in one breath, then another, trying to get enough oxygen to scream.