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He shoves the door open, pulling me through it. One of his arms wraps around my waist, while the other cradles the back of my head, forcing me to face him. I should resist, but the moment he touches me, the chaos swirling in my mind grows quiet.
He still has that effect on me, even after everything.
My hands are crossed over my chest, holding my towel up.
“Tell me the truth,” he insists.
I chew my lower lip. His hands are warm against my skin,soothing.I lean my head back into his grip, letting my eyes fall closed when his fingers spear through the roots of my damp hair. Electricity dances over my skin, gathering in my soles and fingertips.
A breathy sigh escapes me. This feels too good.
I’m playing too close to the fire. “Horrible,” I say. “I don’t feel good.” But this is helping.
Alexander starts to massage my scalp, and the last little bit of composure I was holding on to slips from my grasp. My body goes limp in his hands, the tension leaving my body with each stroke.
There’s something to be said about the man’s hands. He knows exactly what to do with them to get me to come undone. It’s everything I need right now.
“Let me make you feel better.”
His voice resonates in my chest, raising goosebumps on my skin. My eyes snap open to find that he’s closer than before, his breath splaying over the crook of my neck. He smells different—like sun-kissed sand with the hint of citrus.
I can think of a few things he could do to make me feel better.
And we shouldn’t be doing any of them.
But, after that conversation I had with my father, I’m not sure if my current approach with Alexander will get me what I want. If I keep fighting him, he’ll only want to keep fighting me. I’ll need him to trust me, to give me a little more freedom than I have now.
It will be essential to my escape, however I plan to do it.
There’s a slight twinge of guilt at the thought of taking advantage of him like that, but I tamp it down. I’m just taking a page fromhisplaybook. After all, that’s what he did to me.
I let the towel fall and wrap my arms around his neck, closing the last bit of distance between our bodies. His cock is hard in his slacks, pressed against my abdomen. There’s a rush deep in my belly when I feel it, memories of the last time we were this close charging my blood. Pressing up against him, I roll my hips against his hardness.
A muffled groan falls from his lips.
“Hold on, sweetheart,” he says. Something pops in my chest. I look up at him in confusion, but he’s already pulling me away from me. “We can do that after I make sure you’re okay.”
The absence of his hands nearly pulls a whimper from me. He steps away and the towel bunches around my ankles, leaving me bare in front of him. Alexander’s blue eyes skim appreciatively over my body, but there’s calculation in his gaze too.
Instead of lingering on the swell of my breasts or between my legs, his eyes dawdle on my neck and abdomen and my arms. He reaches out and runs a thumb right next to my navel.
“Was this here yesterday?”
It’s one of the fresh bruises from the attack. I shake my head.
His jaw tenses. “What about this?” This time, he touches my neck.
I can’t see it, but the thorn of pain that blooms where he touches me is familiar. I cataloged all of these bruises before I got into the shower this morning. I shake my head again.
Alexander heaves a sigh. He looks like he’s in pain.
“If I kill them this time, will you be upset?”
He looks at me intently, awaiting my instruction. Whatever I say to him now will determine whether Liam lives or dies and I’d be lying if I said it didn’t make me a little bit warm on the inside. It’s fucked up, but Liam has attacked metwice.
He deserves everything coming to him.
“Killing him is off the table.” I smirk. “But torture, I’m fine with. If he dies accidentally though, I wouldn’t be mad.”
