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I gulp and without really thinking about it scramble backward on the bed.
He’s just so exponentially large.
He reaches down and grabs my ankle, yanking me back to him in one swift tug.
“Xavier,” he says. “My name.”
And then he reaches into the drawer beside his bedside and pulls out a knife.
Giant psycho’s going to kill me.
I’m about to die.
I screech and try to roll away from him but his huge hand clamps easily around my ankle yet again.
“Hold still,” he growls.
And then I hear the sound of fabric being cut. I look down wide-eyed to see he’s slicing my expensive Gucci pants off me, starting at the ankle. Once he gets to the knee of each leg, he starts to rip, his muscles flexing.
He has to use the knife again to cut through the top where the belt loops are. I lay panting in terror.
“You could have just asked me to take them off,” I whisper as he pulls the ruined fabric from around my body. I want to drop my hands to cover myself, but God, it won’t do any good, will it?
This is happening and there’s no stopping it.
“I didn’t like them,” is all he says.
My favorite gray silk blouse is the next to go. He doesn’t have to use the knife. He just rips it open and the buttons all come off in a consecutive set of explosive pops.
Then he flips me over on the bed so I’m face down.
Ridiculously, I wonder: Does he just expect me to go around the mansion naked all the time now? Because that will be comfortable.
Gotta love my knack for worrying about the really important things.
Next he’s slicing through the straps of my bra—which yes, is very worn and has definitely seen better days. But still, it was one of my last barriers to him and now it’s gone.
I’m still face down on the bed as the contraption holding my mid-sized breasts comes free.
And then—shit, shit, shit—he cuts off my underwear.
I lie here not sure if I’m glad I can’t see what he’s doing now or if I’m more terrified because I want to watch his every move.
Before I can decide, though, one of his huge hands drops to my back.
My eyes squeeze shut.
I expect him to be rough. To grab me like he did my ankle earlier.
To take what I’m here for him to take.
I don’t expect the tentative touch.
I don’t expect the soft exhale as his other hand comes to my skin and he caresses down my back from my shoulder blades to the top swell of my ass. He stops just short of touching it, though, and massages back up again.
I feel the bed dip as he gets on, springs squeaking. I imagine his huge body taking up the whole bed, larger than life. Just thinking of that, his body crouched above me, is enough to have me tensing and ready to scramble off the bed and running for the door.
His hands pause on my back. He felt the sudden tension in my body.
