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But it’s not like he wasn’t all over me a few weeks ago, too.
“What would’ve happened?”
“I don’t know,” I answer.
Why didn’t I ask them that?
“What did you want to happen?” he asks.
I can only shrug, meeting his eyes as I search for words. “I… I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?” He rips my blanket away and steps down, gripping my upper arms as he backs me into the living room again. “What did you want to happen?”
“I don’t know!” I cry. “I…”
“What?”
“I…”
Why am I the one in trouble? Is he really angry?
Or just disappointed?
“What did you want to happen?”
“I wanted it all to happen,” I utter, finally looking back up at him with tears in my eyes. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I just…I feel it everywhere.”
He stares at me, his eyes narrowed. “You feel what everywhere?”
“You,” I whisper, dropping my eyes. “And them.”
This place, the house, the land, the wind…them. I’m alive.
“You get hard, you feel it,” I remind him of our night in the kitchen. “Am I not supposed to feel it, too?”
“You’re seventeen!”
“Eighteen,” I growl back. “I could’ve screwed anyone by now. My parents never cared, but I did.” I look up at him as he brings me close, his hot, angry breaths falling over my forehead. “No one ever felt right… b-before.”
He holds me, squeezing my arms and seething.
His fists clench, his fingers digging into my skin, and I whimper. “Jake…”
It hurts.
He drops me and twists me around, bending me over one arm. I barely have time to suck in a breath before his hand lands hard on my ass, a loud slap piercing the air.
I gasp, squeezing my eyes shut in shock.
“Still feeling good?” he asks, breathing hard.
I don’t look at him. Rage boils my blood, and part of me wants to scream and hit back, but another part of me…
Another part of me feels the knots loosen in my stomach. My heart jumps and the adrenaline runs.
Still feeling good?
Slowly, I nod.
