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His words were broken up, barely distinguishable through the anger battling within him. His grip on my wrists was painful, but I didn’t move. He was feral at that moment, and I searched his eyes for a glimpse of the Emrick I had seen last night—the Emrick who had come out of his shell to play, who had unleashed his desires on me, and who looked almost happy at times, his eyes lighting up when I came at his touch.
Where had that man gone?
My eyes darted between his as his breathing slowed, but he continued to glare at me. His hair falling wild around his face, he looked almost unhinged. I had pushed some boundary, that much was abundantly clear.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered. Unsure what else to say.
With a heavy grunt, his breathing returned to normal, and the frown melted from his face, returning to the same stoic expression he usually held. After a pause, he said, “You’re still here.”
Panic filled me again, and I glanced at his grip on my hands.
How many ways could I screw this up?Was I supposed to leave?
I’d taken a hell of a chance coming to bed with him, knowing it was against not only my better judgment but the advice of almost everyone in the club. Was this what happened to everyone else? Were they fired because they couldn’t take the hint and get out of his room after fucking?
“I’m sorry.” I felt like I was apologizing a lot, but what else could I do? “I didn’t know I was supposed to leave.”
His eyes searched mine, his grip on my wrists slackening slightly, but he didn’t let me up. I flexed my hands, and his gaze flickered to the movement. It was becoming increasingly difficult not to feel exposed under his glare. Despite everything last night, he hadn’t looked at me like this, like he was trying to read my mind or figure me out. I wanted to tell him there was nothing to figure out, I was—mostly—an open book. What you see is what you get.
“Why don’t you tattoo over the scars?”
His expression went dark. “What?”
It was hard to keep my voice bold under the way he was staring at me.If looks could kill.“If you hate them so much, why don’t you tattoo over them?”
“I can’t.”
“Why?”
Those eyes were so dark, and I was lost in the black of him and his gaze. “You ask a lot of questions.”
“I’m curious about you.”
“You apparently know everything about me, everyone does. I’m sure you’ve heard it all.”
“I want to hear it from you.”
And it was true. While I knew the rumors were most likely true, and chances are he had done things even worse than what people whispered about, things no one knew of or dared to speak. I wanted to know the man behind those eyes, the man behind the darkness that ebbs and flows around him.
The man who had suffered and ended up with those scars.
But Emrick simply stared at me before asking, “Did I hurt you last night?”
“Yes.” I squirmed again, not so much from being pinned underneath his body but from the way he was looking at me, studying me. Feeling my face flush, I hated it, but there was nothing I could do to hide it. My voice was small when I added, “But I liked it.”
Why was it so hard to admit? I guess it was merely another part of my darkness I hadn’t owned up to yet.
“I bit you. I spanked you…” He paused, glancing at my neck, where I’m sure the bruises were starting to show. “I drew blood.”
I held his stare. “I know. I was there.”
Emrick frowned, staring at me hard.What did he want from me?
He released my hands with a push against the pillows, and I stayed with my arms up as he traced his fingers down and over my breasts, flicking his thumbs over my nipples.
“What are you doing?” I whispered.
I squealed as he pinched my nipples, and he continued to stare into my eyes. “What do you think I’m doing?”
