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“Iwas the one who was meant to be by your side. The one you’d lean on. After his passing, you’d decide there was no use in continuing to date men, and after a while, you’d realize that I was all you really needed.”
She whirs around to face me, her eyes aflame with yearning. “You’d see that I could be everything you were searching for. That I am all you will ever need.” Stepping up to me, she cups my cheeks in her hands. For a brief moment, I fear that she’s going to kiss me. “I just know if you stopped chasing after boys and really thought about it, you’d feel the same way I do.”
I have a split second to wrap my head around the fact that sheisin fact going to kiss me when she leans in, her eyes locked on mine as her breath fans my lips. I resist the temptation to retreat as my entire body tenses. Not only can I not do that because I’m tied to a goddamn chair, but I know if I rebuff her advances, it will ruin whatever semblance of peace we have going. She currently seems to believe that I’m unsure but open to the possibility of there ever being an us. Still, the instant she discovers that I’m not, I have the distinct impression that this will turn nasty and violent.
So instead, I maintain my composure and convince myself it’s no big deal. Wilder has done far worse to me over the last few weeks, and yet, this feels like a far greater violation.
I guess that’s because, deep down, I always wanted him, even when I was mad at him or felt rejected, crushed by his treatment of me, even if I could understand his reasoning. As long as he was touching me, I’ve never cared if it was out of resentment or rage.
Even when he practically forced me to my knees on the kitchen floor, I never felt as helpless as I do at this moment. Good or bad, I craved every second of Wilder’s attention. Until I saw them strung up on the wall, those intimate moments between us never once felt dirty or disgusting.
When Mel’s lips meet mine, that foul, unclean feeling intensifies until I’m practically choking on the lump of vomit resting at the back of my throat, and sweat lines my skin.
She moans against my lips, her tongue probing at the seam. I momentarily resist before forcing my lips to part, granting her entry. A soft sigh falls into my open mouth, sounding entirely at odds with the battle raging within me. It’s the sound of utter bliss. Of someone who has finally worked up the courage to do something they’ve dreamt of, and it’s surpassed their every expectation.
It’s not dissimilar to the noise I made when Kai kissed me for the first time on that dance floor.
Now, it’s just one more thing she’s stolen and tarnished.
I’m at war with myself. With every swipe of her tongue against mine, I battle every instinct that screams at me to pull away. That ball of bile at the back of my throat climbs progressively higher with each passing second, intensifying until I’m choking on the putrid taste, positive she can smell it on my breath. Seconds away from puking all over her, I panic.
A buzzing sound interrupts the tense moment and forces her to break the kiss. She does not, however, make any move to check the vibrating phone in her back pocket. Standing before me, she zeroes in on my swollen lips, before her dilated pupils drop to take in the damp dress clinging to my body. She can undoubtedly see my heaving chest and the sharp peaks of my nipples, drawn taut from the cold—nother.
She traces the silhouette of my body with her eyes. How it tapers in at my waist before flaring out at my hips, the outline of my lean thighs, and the prominent V emphasizing my pussy through the wet fabric. A primitive hunger enters her eyes, one that’s far more dangerous than the heat from a moment ago.
It speaks of promises I don’t want to see fulfilled. Promises that will break me more than a kiss ever will. Break me more than Wilder ever could.
Her eyelids close, and I study her as she wrangles herself under control. When she opens them again, and that hunger has abated, I inwardly sigh with relief.
Chilly air replaces the nauseating sensation of her body pressing against mine when she eventually pushes herself out of my personal space. It feels amazing against my clammy skin, and while her back is turned, I suck down a greedy gulp of air and try to block out the hammering of my heart against my chest.
She sighs, pulling my gaze to her. “Our time is up.”
What does that mean? Is one of the guys close to finding us? Or is it time for her to move me somewhere else? Please,God, let it be the former.
She comes back over to where I’m restrained to the chair and looks down at me with an unreadable expression. “I’m giving you time to get on board with this, but I won’t be kept waiting much longer. Now that you understand there’s no actual threat to you, you don’t need thoseboys’ protection. Although I would prefer if you came to me on your own, I will personally come and get you if you don’t.” Stepping away, she grabs a small knapsack from the floor and tosses it over her shoulder.
She pauses as she passes me. “I’ll be watching.”
Her words are laced with a threat, one I’d be wise to heed, yet I don’t have the capacity to process them. Instead, I file her words away to deal with later, when I'm not alone and chained to a chair in a creepy basement, with no idea how the hell I’m going to get out of here.
I listen as she climbs the stairs. Unadulterated fear seeps into my bones with each thundering footfall. It was horrible enough being trapped alone with her, but the prospect of being imprisoned down here alone is unbearable.
Twisting in my chair, my breaths come in quick spurts as panic descends like a heavy mist. Moments later, I’m plunged into darkness as the door slams shut with a foreboding clang that reverberates off the brick walls and vibrates its way into the very core of my soul, leaving nothing behind but brutal, icy horror.
Oh god, what if the guys aren’t on their way? What if I’ve been put on a timeout, left to sit and stew down here in the dark until Mel deigns to return?
Chapter3
WILDER
Icharge across campus with as much fervor as the surrounding storm. My exhaustion is all but forgotten in my search for Emilia. Not even the cold seeping into my bones from the wet clothes sticking to my skin can deter me. Emilia may be the bane of my fucking existence right now, but that doesn’t mean I want to see her hurt—well, by anyone other than me.
This crazed motherfucker already killed her ex-boyfriend. What the hell might he do to Emilia if she says or does something to piss him off? I highly doubt he will hold his hands up and say,oh, my bad,when she tells him she isn’t interested.
As I walk by, I cast a glance across the central quad, trying to guess where he might be keeping her. Assuming she is even still on campus—which is a big fucking assumption. For all I know, they could be halfway to Timbuktu by now. A fact that doesn’t sit well and only serves to confuse the fuck out of me.
Why the hell does the thought of not seeing her bother me? I’ve been torturing her—okay, both of us—this entire timebecauseshe had the audacity to blow back into my life. Why, then, would I suddenly give a shit if she left again?
