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Butterflies simultaneously erupt in my gut as it dives.
I'm not sleeping with him, I reiterate to myself with more determination than ever.
The valet reaches in. "Ma'am, can I help you out of the car?"
I take his hand because I don't trust myself and my balance. I get out, and Tynan pulls me toward him again, as if I'm somehow meant to be right next to him. He leads me into the hotel.
I stay silent as we check in and as he ushers me into the elevator. He pushes the button for the eighth floor.
Tension fills the air. My heart races faster.
The elevator stops, and the doors open.
Tynan confidently struts down the hall, effortlessly guiding me next to him. Then he stops in front of a door.
Room 869.
My insides quiver harder as he takes out the key and unlocks the door. He pushes the door open and motions for me to go inside.
The space seems to close in on me. I glance around, but there's nowhere to hide. It's just Tynan, me, and one gigantic bed.
The sound of the door shutting and the lock being secured makes me cringe. I step in front of the window and cross my arms, staring out into Belfast.
I've only been here a few times. I know Dublin much better because that's where I grew up.
A few minutes pass, then Tynan sidles up behind me, and his woody scent flares around us. His hand slides over my stomach, and his big frame presses against my back.
I shut my eyes, wanting to resist him and hating that any part of me wants to give in to his advances.
Why does he feel so good?
He doesn't.
This isn't happening. He doesn't get me.
His lips graze the side of my cheek. He claims, "I think it's time to get these wet clothes off, don't ya think, lass?"
My core throbs. I almost agree. Yet I manage to tilt my head over my shoulder and seethe, "I'm not taking any of my clothes off."
He softly chuckles, sliding his hand under my sweater and caressing his thumb over my belly button.
I shiver, and he chuckles. "Sure ya aren't."
"Are ya going to force me? Is that what ya do? Ya force people to marry ya and force them to do things they don't want to do?" I hurl.
"I didn't force ya to marry me. And ya better never say that again," he threatens, giving me a look that makes me heed his warning.
So I stare back at him, unsure what to reply.
He reiterates, "Ya chose to marry me."
"I didn't have much of a choice, did I?" I mutter.
"Ya did. Ya chose to save that poor, pathetic sack of shit father of yours."
I cry out, "Don't talk about my da that way!"
Tynan sneers. "He sold ya for his debt."
