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Ishould be relieved. Romeo tossed me into our room and never came back. I sat on our bed for hours before realizing the door wasn’t even locked. Nothing yet everything has changed.
I walk out, prepared to fight with Romeo, but no one is around. The area is vacant except for pigs. My heart has not stopped beating at an alarming rate. The only thing to calm me down is tumbling.
The ground is less than ideal, but I manage to find a small patch of grass. It’s nothing like the plush lawn or mats I’m used to. Bending myself in half, I stretch out one leg before the other.
I start with a cartwheel, then a back walkover to warm up. It doesn’t take long before I’m flying through the air, my mind unable to focus on anything but the task at hand.
As I land a twist, my hands go up, and my head tilts toward the sun, enjoying its warmth on me. Slow claps bring me out of my routine. Romeo’s eyes travel the length of my body, starting at my feet and sliding up my legs, my stomach, until he reaches my face.
I notice the dog he refuses to give any attention to sitting loyally at his feet. He doesn’t deserve it.
“Done disposing of the bodies?” I ask sweetly with my fake smile.
“Yup. There’s no more need for Max to be here, so I sent him away for now.”
The thought that we’re alone tugs at me. It frightens me, but not because I’m afraid of him; it’s because I’m worried about what could happen. He has a way of making me forget he’s the enemy.
“You must be the worst kidnapper ever,” I deadpan while I begin my stretching. I start with folding myself down, one leg outstretched before switching to the other.
“Don’t test me today, Gia.” I have purposely placed myself so he’s behind me.
“Nothing has changed from before,” I respond upside down. Only when I’m standing do I chance a glance at him.
His eyes flare as I look up from under my thick, black lashes. “Careful, Gia. I can have you moaning and enjoying my cock in seconds.”
A flush creeps along my neck at the mental image. “You need a stereo. Something to listen to music on.”
“Want to know my favorite type of music?”
I don’t want to know. We’re not friends. This isn’t a sharing circle. I refuse to answer.
“Your moans.”
I roll my eyes. “Romeo. Your one-liners and come-ons are too much. It’s annoying. Always remember, less is more. The girls you fuck aren’t jumping on your dick because you have talent. It’s because they’re all trying to climb the ladder from under you.”
He steps toward me, grabbing hold of my hair. He loops it around his hand before pulling me to him. His eyes light with enjoyment. “Which one are you then?”
Arrogance radiates off him as he holds my face to his. I miss the way we used to interact. When I thought I had a friend. He had this strange, charming façade to him. The man in front of me has now lost his charisma.
I spit in his face. He may not have called me a whore, but his tone was implying it. His eyes darken, but a sense of feeling strangely safe never leaves me. He won’t hurt me. At least physically. A small spark flares as I enjoy getting him angry. It’s a weird kind of chemistry. One I have never felt with anyone else.
His hand slips up my legs. The touch is warm while his stare is cold and calculating. His calluses tickle my sweat-ridden skin. “What’s the real reason you ran away? Don’t give me some bullshit answer.”
My veins whoosh with extra blood, my heart pounding. A hint of humor sparkles in his eyes. I’m happy I can entertain him with my juvenile life. I saw how he used to look at me. Like I was dirt under his shoe. We went to school together growing up. Even the school was divided into our side and their side.
“I’ve been secretly in love with you my whole life,” I sarcastically mumble, answering his question. He pulls my hair, and I stumble into his hard torso. My fingers feel the hard planes as I attempt to right myself.
“I figured that had to be it.” His gaze settles on the side of my neck. “Your crush has always been cute.”
I roll my eyes, and he grips my hair harder. Irritation sparks in me as he plays along with my little game.
He leans in, and I expect some insult or a dirty joke. He moves incredibly slow. The pulse in my neck strums with not knowing his next move. Along my neck, his breath feathers across my skin. My chest rises and falls with short pants. On the tip of my tongue, I want to make an off-handed comment, but it’s like I forgot how to speak. A light pressure sweeps up my neck, his lips soft and doing something funny to me. I refuse to give him better access.
Each kiss, he adds more pressure, and I almost moan. His lips vibrate on my skin with a silent chuckle. His hot tongue lights my body on fire. It sweeps across my neck where his lips touched. My breaths are shaky at best. Another kiss, a small suck. Then his tongue soothes the skin. He continues his assault on my neck, and I wish I could say I hate it. My traitorous body is 100 percent not on the same side as my mind.
It feels so good. I breathe him in. No one has ever kissed my neck. The act is small and insignificant. However, my body is acting like it’s nothing of the sort. I have a thing for hair pulling. It’s the only reasonable explanation. When I close my eyes, a low moan releases.
It drives Romeo out of his stupor, and he releases my hair while stepping back. My feet stumble, his body leaving mine. He’s no longer holding me up, leaving me breathless.
“Those hickeys should help you remember whose side you are on.” Cockily, he strolls away, seemingly unaffected.
My hand goes to my neck, his lips still tingling my skin even after he’s gone. It takes a moment for me to realize exactly what he did. He fucking marked me. The need to run inside and see it sticks its thorns into me. I know it’s what he wants.
I flick my hair behind my back, the light sting still felt on my scalp from his grip. I keep indifference on my face as I walk past the house toward the pigs. The itch to check if he’s watching pushes deeper, but I refuse to.
How dare he think he can mark me?Keep me prisoner here and expect me to be happy about it. He’s so crazy I bet he thinks he’s doing me a favor. He’s that cocky and out of reality. My anger simmers, waiting for one more thing to push me over the edge.
When I bring the pigs their normal food, they’re uninterested. They seem more interested in me than anything.
