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“A few, mostly guys from work.”
“I seriously can’t peg you for an IT guy. Seems way off,” I point out.
“How is that? I didn’t know IT guys had a profile.”
I laugh. “They don’t, but you seem like the type of guy who would be in some type of public service. A cop, firefighter, maybe even own your own gym.”
His brow quirks. “How so?”
I hesitate. How do I phrase this without sounding like a total bitch? “Well, you have a kick-rocks type of attitude.”
This makes him laugh. “Maybe that’s why I like IT. I don’t have to socialize or put up with people.”
Tilting my head from side to side, I agree. “That makes sense, actually.”
“You like books. You would think judging a book by its cover would be in the literal sense. Especially for you.”
“You got me. Do you like to read?”
“Sure. The newspaper.”
“That’s not reading. That’s just staying up on current events. Don’t you like escapism?” I lean in, enthralled in this conversation.
“Not really, I have enough in my life to keep me entertained.”
“Oh yeah, like what?”
“You. God, you. I could read each part of you like a goddamn book. Get lost in you. That is my escapism, Hanna.” The tension in the truck thickens, near the point of stealing the very air out of this small space.
“Theo. Why do you do this? Why do you say things like that to me?” I basically choke this out.
“Why do you ask that? You enjoy it, don’t you? This is the type of thing you read, isn’t it? In those books?”
I swallow. “How do you know what I read?”
He tilts his head down to my bag, and right at the top is my book he must have looked at when packing up my things at the lake. The man on the front is shirtless, the cover anything but discreet.
“You like men like that? Does that turn you on? The things they do in those books?” He asks me that just as we pull up to his house. I would take it in, but I’m hanging on the edge of my seat, gripped tightly by his words.
“Maybe,” I murmur.
“Why? What do you like about it, Hanna? The romance, or the fact that they fuck—and they fuck in ways you want to be fucked? Because I can fuck you so much better than that, puppet. I can make those men look like they’re beginners.”
Feeling bold, I challenge him, “Prove it. Make me believe you even stand a chance to be in that elite group.”
Clicking his tongue, I see the control brewing in his eyes. He’s losing a bit of it, and that angers him. I’m learning Theo will never back down from a challenge, especially one that questions his power and control. Call it payback for making me feel like nothing but a whore just moments ago. The new Hanna isn’t just finding a home here in Cherry Hill. I’m finding my voice, my backbone—my courage. Something I never had before.
Power is starting to feel good.
“You pushed, puppet. Way too far. I’m going to make you choke on those words.” His voice is low, the storm raging madly in his eyes, and I suddenly worry he may just be right. I won’t admit this, but the two times we’ve had sex had my books paling in comparison to what we did. But pushing him to new limits could do two things—please me or ruin me—both things equally as dangerous.
“What are you going to do?” I gulp.
“Grab the book.”
“What? Why would I grab the book?”
“Because I said grab the book, Hanna. Challenge accepted.”
“Oh God.” He’s really going to do it.
What, exactly? I don’t know, but he’s going to do something to compete with the men I’m reading about.
There is no comparison. This is it. He’s going to show me that side of him he’s been holding back. The tree episode was a prelude to what he really has planned. I know it.
“I’m nervous. Maybe we should take a second.” I start to choke, that bout of confidence shivering in her regret.
His eyes are cold. “You awoke me. Now, you’re going to satisfy my needs, even more so…your needs. Book. Now.”
Reaching down, I grab it with shaky hands. What did I just ask for?
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
THEO
Hanna is getting under my skin. Possessing my thoughts. First, I showed up at the store, because she refused to send me photos. Then, I showed up at the lake so I could take her home like a goddamn caveman. Now, she’s daring to say I need to prove I can do things to her that the men in her romance novels can.
I would scoff and brush off any other woman. Not even bother to prove anything. But with her, it’s an impulse. A need that has to happen or I will lose my mind.
