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"No. No, you fucking don't. You just think I'm crazy. This wasn't in my head. I'm telling you that he was there, that he touched me. Look." She points at her neck, but I see no marks, no bruising of any kind.
"There's nothing there, mou—"
"No," she cries, emotion cracking her voice. "He called me that. He called me by your name for me. He's ruining everything, Bexley. Why can't you see that he won't stop this until he's got everything he wants."
"No, Mia. He's gone. He's done his damage, and he's gone."
"Why won't you believe me?" she sags against the wall, her arms wrapping around her waist as if she's physically holding herself together.
"There's no evidence, baby. He couldn't get in here without security seeing him."
"He did, Bexley. He was here. He touched me. He—"
I take her by the throat just like she said he did, and she gasps in shock. "Security is going to sweep the entire estate, check all the CCTV. If he was here, they'll find it."
"Hewashere," she seethes, her fear giving way to anger as her arm flies out to slap me.
Sadly for her, I'm faster. I have her wrist in my grasp and her arm pinned to the wall above her head before she even registers that her slap never made contact.
"Bexley, what are you—" My fingers tighten around her throat and her eyes widen before I lower my head, slamming my lips to hers. "Bexley," she tries again, but I'm not having any of it.
"Trust me, baby," I breathe into our kiss, stepping forward to crush her body against the wall and to show her just how much her mere presence affects me. "Trust me to know what you need."
Her body relaxes ever so slightly, and I know I've got her.
I push my tongue deeper into her mouth as my fingers trail down her body until I find the hem of the shirt she was sleeping in. Lifting the fabric, I run my fingertips up the satin skin of her thighs, stopping when I hit her lace panties.
Kicking her legs wider, I cup her mound over her underwear, pressing one finger between her folds. "So wet for me, baby."
"Bexley," she moans, clearly accepting that this is happening.
I rub her until her hips begin to grind and her little whimpers tell me that she's getting close.
"What?" she cries when I pull my hand away and release her throat, but I don't go far. I wrap my fingers around the neck of her shirt and tear it straight down the front, exposing her bare breasts that are heavy and desperate for my touch.
"Bexley!" Desire drips from her words, and I rip her panties away from her in a similar fashion, dropping them on top of her ruined shirt.
She stands before me with her chest heaving, her nipples pert and begging to be sucked on and her legs parted, teasing me with what I really want.
"Turn around, place your hands on the wall, and bend over."
She hesitates, not used to me being quite so demanding.
"Do it or get out."
For a split second, I panic that she might take the second option, but I soon realize that I know my girl better than that—even now, when she's struggling to know who she is.
It's the sign I didn't realize how badly I needed that my Mia is still in there. Under all the fear and hallucinations, she's still there.
"Fuck, baby," I growl when she arches her back and offers herself up to me.
Dragging my shirt over my head, I drop to my knees. "So fucking pretty, baby," I murmur, squeezing her ass cheeks in my palms so hard my fingers leave marks in their wake.
I pull one hand back for a second before watching my palm connect once again with a loud slap.
"Bexley," Mia squeals, her entire body jolting as a mix of shock and pleasure races through her body.
Dipping my head down, I tease my tongue between her folds, finding her clit.
