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Chapter Five
Teddy
My mouth is open, eyes wide, as I watch the video on the screen of me dragging Lola into the car play out .
The car that the cop was looking at outside.
“That’s how they found us,” I whisper, turning to Branson. He’s watching me rather than the TV, his face harsh and firm.
“What are you talking about?” he asks, his voice gruff and his eyes never leaving my face.
“The car,” I tell him, pointing to the TV, “You can’t see the license plate, I’m better than that, but they must be going around looking for people with that make of car. That’s why the cop was here.”
His jaw ticks.
“The cop you just killed.” A statement, not a question.
I narrow my eyes at him.
“He was snooping around.”
Branson lets a huff of air out his nose, bringing his hand up to the bridge of his nose. My annoyance fades and I reach a hand out to him.
“Headache again?”
“Always,” he mutters, raising his face to mine and pulling back before I can touch him. I feel the cold stab of rejection.
“It seems like they’ve been getting worse?” I comment, not adding that maybe that’s because I’ve been actually paying attention.
"That was really stupid," he tells me, ignoring my concern, "You can't keep fucking doing this shit anymore!"
"Don't fucking judge me," I tell him, pointing a finger at him. "Besides, that was days ago. Not like I just went and killed a hooker to piss you off.”
“Sounds like something you’d do,” he spits.
I narrow my eyes at him. “And don't think for a second that just because I let you have your way with sex that you can fucking boss me around the rest of the time. Fuck. You."
The last word isn't out of my mouth before he grabs my wrist, pulling me harshly toward him. His other hand grips my chin hard enough to bruise, his face only inches from mine.
"Don't push me, Mia. I already told you, I own you," his voice is low. The hand gripping my wrist reaches down to my ass to grab it and squeeze his claim. "This body is mine. Your mind, your life, everything is fucking mine. You fucking owe me."
Despite my automatic instinct to pull back, to reject the authority he thinks he holds over me, I can't help but feel the desire in me rise at seeing him like this. There's a reason I'm more than willing to let him dominate me in the bedroom.
"If I say no more, then no more," he tells me, "Understand?"
I look into his eyes and feel my heart crack at the judgement I see there. I’m not a complete psycho, I know I'm not normal, but of all people I’d want to understand, to accept me….
"I thought you would accept me," I whisper, my voice breaking, "Jane was fucking crazy, but at least she accepted me for me, what I need."
He moves away from me like I lit on fire, a sort of growl coming from his throat as he begins to pace.
"You'd compare me to that fucking psycho!" he yells. "You want me to treat you how Jane treats people? Next time should I whip you, starve you like a fucking dog, instead of making you fucking come?"
I flinch at the accusation and he continues to walk across the floor, muttering to himself slightly in a way that reminds me too much of Jane the past year.
“You realize they’ll come looking for that cop, right? We can’t fucking stay here now all because you… FUCK!”
The anger and sadness I felt a moment before washes away with my amazement, and I realize I don't think I've heard him yell before. His chest heaves with the exertion of his anger but he doesn't turn to me. Indecision fills me. The fear of being controlled and forced to be someone I'm not wage war with how badly I want this man in front of me.
