AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“What type of question is that? I just felt it. Besides, I bit my hand when you raped me and look!” I show him the teeth marks on my non-injured palm. “How do you explain this?”
“You could’ve bitten your hand while you were sleeping.”
“That’s not possible, because I sleep completely still. Besides”—I motion at his ink—“I saw your tattoos when I never have before this moment.”
“You could be projecting seeing them now to the past.”
“That doesn’t make any sense! You think I’m an idiot?”
“And you think I’m under the obligation to explain myself to you?” His voice loses all casualness, lowering, hardening,stifling. “I don’t need to force myself on you and, therefore, I didn’t rape you. It must’ve been a nightmare.”
“It couldn’t have been a nightmare. I don’t dream.”
“You probably just started.”
“Don’t try to make me seem crazy. I’m not.”
He stops gliding the towel over the wound. “Are you sore?”
His question catches me off guard and I pause as my legs clench together.
“Are you, Lia? Because if, as you said, I raped you, you wouldn’t be able to move.”
“I…”
“What?”
“…Am not.” Aside from the soaked panties, there’s no discomfort whatsoever between my legs or in my muscles. Considering it’s been a long time since I had sex, I would be sore.
“There. Your answer.” He tosses the towel in the sink and reaches into the cabinet, retrieving a first aid kit.
His shoulder muscles strain with the motion and his tattoos expand. I want to study them, to see if there’s a symbol I recognize, but his full nakedness doesn’t help me in my quest to focus.
I really don’t want to be ogling him right now.
Forcing my gaze away, I concentrate on an invisible dot on the opposite wall. A sense of relief slowly creeps over me at the thought that it was indeed a nightmare.
I don’t care if it was my first, or that it somehow matched so close to reality. Maybe that’s what happens when you don’t dream; your very first one is a visceral, horrifying experience.
The reason I desperately want it to be a nightmare isn’t only because of mental damage. It’s the fact that I didn’t fight. The fact that Iorgasmed. The fact that I was touching myself to that disgusting act.
Pushing those thoughts away, I try to breathe, even partially, considering that Adrian’s still here and his presence always steals some of my air, if not all.
He gets a Band-Aid and puts it on the small cut in my palm. “Don’t ever do that again.”
“That?”
“The bottle. You should’ve given it to me when I told you to.”
“I wasn’t exactly thinking straight,” I mutter dismissively. But if I thought that would propel him to let it go, I’m far from right.
Adrian’s eyes darken and the air thickens in response to his mood. He towers over me until I have to tilt my head back to look at him as he repeats slowly, “You weren’tthinking.”
“I…wasn’t.”
“You’ll think before you act from now on.”
“Okay.”
