Page 16 of Burn Me Down

Shaking my head, I looked down at my hands. I could be lying naked in front of him, and I wouldn’t feel as exposed as I did right now.

“Then, if you concede that I won. Why were you crying when you woke up?”

I wiped away a stray tear that escaped my eye. “Um….”

“And please don’t try to lie to me. I will know, and I did win fairly.”

I looked up at him, and my insides twisted with so many contradicting emotions that it was hard to tell what I thought or felt anymore. A thought occurred to me as I stared at his broad shoulders.

“Can I ask you one question first?”

“Sure, why not.”

“Was that you the other night I was out with Kent?” His eyes darkened, and it felt like the room filled with his anger.

“You mean the piece of shit trying to rape you? Yeah, that was me,” he growled, and the sound flowed through my body like he was touching me. A part of me screamed to run from him and get as far away as I could, while the other part wanted to pull him down on the bed and thank him.

“What did you do to him?”

“You said one question. That would be two, and I am still owed my prize.” I chewed my lower lip as I thought about the repercussions of telling him anything more about my life. Did it matter at this point? I didn’t know. I didn’t notice him move until he gripped my chin and forced me to look into his eyes.

Thump, thump, thump. That was all I could hear. Unable to help myself, I stared at his lips, wondering if he was a good kisser.

“Answer the question,” he said, and I sucked in a shuddering breath.

“I was dreaming about my ex.” His eyes went from dark to murderous. I’d never met a murderer before, but his eyes seemed to demand your soul.

“What is his name?” I licked my lips, but it didn’t help the dryness in my throat. “I will find out regardless.”

“Brian Jones,” I said, certain I had just signed his death certificate. I didn’t want to be responsible for someone dying.

“You’re not going to hurt him, right?”

“Why? Do you miss him?”

“No.” I was mortified to have to say this out loud. “He was using me, he cheated on me, and then he stole from me. I don’t miss him.” I pulled my chin out of his hand. “Like you said, I have terrible taste in men.”

“If you don’t miss him, why cry?”

This was getting so much more personal than I wanted to get into with anyone, but especially the man who had stalked and kidnapped me. I rolled off the other side of the bed and stood. My hands balled into fists as I tried to keep my emotions from erupting and turning me into a sobbing mess in front of him.

“I cry because you’re right, okay? Everything you said was right. You know me,” I said, knowing it came out angry. “I love the person I am, but every relationship has always ended the same way, and I tell myself it’s not me and that I deserve better, but….” I shook my head. “I’m not doing this. I’m not telling you anything else for you to use against me.” I would’ve stormed off, but there was no place to go, so I stomped for the bathroom.

He grabbed my arm, and I yelped in surprise as he pushed me up against the wall, his nose almost touching mine. I could feel the heat from his body through my clothing, and I shivered. No matter how fit he looked, it couldn’t have prepared me for how dangerous he truly was. I was nothing more than an animal caught in his trap. I suddenly regretted all my cockiness as images of him snapping my neck came to mind.

He growled, but I couldn’t look away and stood frozen as his lips touched mine. The kiss was so soft that I barely felt it, yet desire seared through my body.

“It’s. Not. You.”

He slowly pushed himself away, and I stared into his eyes for a heartbeat before he turned and left. I shouldn’t want this man. That definitely made me clinically insane. He was a stalker and my captor. I was also pretty positive that he was a serial killer, and yet…I said I’d sell my soul to have someone look at me like that. I just didn’t realize the devil himself would be the one to come collect.

Derek

Fuck. I shouldn’t have kissed her.

The feel of her lips on mine was intoxicating. I didn’t need a fucking doctor to tell me I had many terrible personality traits, but my addiction to Beck was climbing up to the top of the list. I’d dozed two hours before I gave up and went to sit in her room to watch her sleep. After doing it for weeks, it felt strange not to listen to her breathing or whisper that she was okay when she whimpered in the night.

The thought of another man touching Beck, let alone hurting her, stirred the demons that lived in me. Demons that, for the most part, had remained contained since shit went down with Asher.