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Burrowing my face deeper into his neck, I whisper against his skin. “I’m so sorry I slapped you.”
I hated myself the moment I got physical after our confrontation at the pond, but the added broader context of Rogue life puts the horror of my action in sharp focus. He acted horribly, but I unknowingly crossed an unforgivable line.
“I deserved it.”
“You deserved the verbal lashing of the century, but I should never have put my hands on you. I’m sorry.”
His Adam's apple bobs as he swallows. He looks at me quietly before he answers. “I’m sorry too. For the things I did.”
I move my lips up to his ear. “You’re forgiven.” I say, kissing his cheek.
He groans, his body shivering at the contact. “Promise?”
I pull away, laughing. “Pinky promise.” I say, extending my pinky at him.
Looking at me through heavy lidded eyes, he wraps his own around it.
“You’re not a quick fuck.”
My heart is racing so loudly in my chest, I’m afraid he can hear it. “What am I then?”
“I don’t know.” He answers, grabbing my hand and bringing it to his temple. “But you’re in here.” He leans into the touch, partially resting the weight of his head in my hand. His voice is almost irritated when he speaks again. “You’re in here and I can’t fucking get you out.”
“Good.” I smile, stroking the hair back and off his forehead. “Rogue, we can’t stay here. He’s going to come back later.”
“We’ll be fine. He won’t do anything with you here. He’d rather die than do anything that might harm his precious image.”
“You think so?” My voice betrays how unsure I am.
“Yeah, it’ll be fine. He’ll probably leave after his Monday meeting.”
“Alright.” I reply.
“Don’t worry. I wouldn’t let anything happen to you.”
???
25.
Bellamy
Rogue refuses to talk about the kitchen incident after that. We spend the rest of the weekend watching movies and heatedly debating them as we cook meals.
It feels incredibly domestic.
Except when his mood shifts and he takes me roughly against the nearest surface. He’s insatiable, I can hardly keep up. He fucks me on the table, against the kitchen, and on the counter. On the carpet and in one of the chairs. Every time I disagree with him and refuse to back down, he spanks me until I do.
He alternates between calling me every dirty name in the book and lavishing me with possessive praise. It’s intoxicating and potentially a little toxic and I’m drunk on it.
On Tuesday, I grab an early dinner atBella’swith the girls after I dip out of détention ahead of schedule. Away from prying ears, we fully debrief on the last couple of weeks. I don’t tell them about Rogue's dad. I don’t want them to worry about me and I don’t want to reveal his secret. It’s not mine to tell.
Twohours into the dinner, Rogue texts me.
Asshole: I’m outside.
Startled, I look up and see his Aston Martin in the parking lot, lights still on.
Me: I’m not going home. I’m with my friends.
