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Other than the nightly routine he had started of brushing my hair, he rarely touched me. He seemed fascinated by my hair, though, spending long moments running the brush through the strands, careful not to pull any. As much as he liked doing it, he was also unaffected, while I had come to crave the time we spent together, even if it was in silence. It hurt that I yearned for so much more from him while he only tolerated my presence. That was why I needed to go now that I was pretty much healed.
I walked into the bedroom I'd been occupying and looked around. The second day I was here, I watched from the bed as Bones emptied my suitcases, putting away my meager belongings in the dresser. Then he turned to leave me alone without a word.
I stepped to the end of the bed and knelt down on the floor to look where I remembered he had slid the empty cases once he was done. Seeing a black handle, I grabbed it, tugging it out into the open. When I stood back up and lifted it onto the bed, I waited to see if it would cause any pain to my ribs, then breathed a sigh of relief when nothing hurt.
I was just finishing up, placing the last piece of clothing neatly into the first suitcase, when his voice boomed from the doorway. I jumped, letting out a startled scream.
"What the fuck are you doing?"
I spun around, my hand over my racing heart, to see the man himself stalking toward me with a murderous expression.
"I asked you a question, little girl. What. The. Fuck. Are. You. Doing?" He didn't give me a chance to answer before he grabbed my suitcase, dumping all the carefully folded garments into a pile on the bed. Then he took the newly emptied case and flung it toward the hallway. I watched as it landed with a bang against the wall. I turned back to him, my mouth open in shock.
"Why did you do that?" I flung up my arms in exasperation and tried to step around him to retrieve the case, but he stopped me with a hand on the center of my chest.
"I'm not going to ask you again," he snarled down into my face, pissing me the hell off. I pushed against his chest, but it was like trying to shove a wall. All it did was make me stumble back a step. It was my turn to glare up into his stupidly handsome face.
"There's no reason for me to stay here anymore. I'm all better now!" I lifted my chin defiantly. "It was kind of you to let me stay here to heal, but it's time for me to go."
For some reason, I couldn't understand, my words only seemed to enrage him further. At one time, I may have been scared of that look. He was a mean motherfucker, someone I knew could, and had, killed without mercy, but after spending so much time, limited though it was, with him, I had come to realize that he would never hurt me. He was always careful with me, as if I were made out of glass. His glares could be considered lethal, but they were nothing but bluster when it came to me. I still didn't understand why he was so angry at seeing me pack. I would have thought he'd want me gone from his home.
"You aren't going anywhere," he said in a tone so final I nearly dropped my mouth open in shock again.
"Why not?" I demanded with my hands firmly on my hips. "I don't need you anymore!"
He froze, his glare turning frosty cold, sending shivers up my spine. I wasn't sure what to make of his change in demeanor at my words, but it was too late to try to take them back.
"You are better now?" His tone went quiet, almost calm, instead of the fierce anger he had displayed only seconds before. "You're healed and aren't in pain anymore?"
Confused, I shrugged. "No, I'm not in any more pain. I can move around just fine. Which you could see by how I had managed to pack the suitcase you just dumped all over the place."
"Good." His hand shot up before I could even think to react. I gasped at the restriction around my throat and felt his fingers flex when I swallowed.
"Bones?" I froze at the sudden move, then brought my hands up to hold onto his forearm. He wasn't hurting me; his grip was more firm than tight, allowing me the freedom to breathe normally. "What are you doing?"
"Something I've waited too goddamn long for."
Then he was jerking me toward him. His mouth landed on mine in a brutal kiss, our teeth clashing. His tongue invaded my mouth as soon as I opened it reflexively to gasp. Several seconds passed while my brain tried to catch up to what was happening. As soon As I realized that this man was actually kissing me, my eyes drifted closed. With a throaty moan, I surrendered to him.
At my capitulation, his movements slowed. He didn't gentle his kiss, but he was no longer harshly taking me. His tongue slowed, swiping over mine in a rough caress that had my belly doing somersaults. With his hand still firmly around my throat, he pushed me until the back of my knees hit the bed. When I landed on my butt, he followed me, still pushing until my back was flat on the mattress. I felt the bed dip as he crawled on top of me, his knees caging in my legs as if to keep me prisoner. Little did he know, escape was the last thing I wanted to do.
His mouth tore away from mine, causing me to open my eyes and blink up at him in confusion. His face was his usual blank mask, but his eyes were blazing with an intensity that filled my body with molten heat. There was so much that he could barely keep hidden in his gaze. Passion, lust, desire, hunger, and other emotions I was too overwhelmed to try and figure out at the moment. His dark eyes ran over my face. Whatever he saw there had him letting out a deep, throaty sound. For one second, his hand tightened almost too tight, but it was there and gone before I could even try to gasp for air.
He removed his hand from my neck, and I almost cried for him to return it. I was afraid he would get off me, to leave me a mess of wanting more from him, but he wasn't rejecting me the way I feared. Instead, he reached with both hands to the front of my dress. In a firm grip, he yanked, tearing the material down the center, jerking my body with the rough movement.
I couldn't breathe as I watched him look over my body with a primal hunger I had only dreamed I would one day see coming from him. It was as if he were more beast than man at the moment. As if my threat of leaving had finally unlocked something, and the man was no longer in control.
"You aren't going anywhere." His words were as cold and emotionless as they had been when I told him I was well enough to leave. "You're never going anywhere."
I swallowed, hearing the threat in his tone. It was a demand so final I had a sudden fear of what he would do when I would have to. It wasn't that I would want to; I never wanted to leave. But eventually, I would need to go back to California. I had never told him why I had come to Pumpkin Patch in the first place. He had no idea that there was a trial date looming in the very near future. He didn't give me a chance to respond before he dipped his head to my breasts that were still encased in my one lacey bra.
I gasped and arched my back, pressing more firmly into him when he bit down on my nipple hard enough to send a shock wave of pain through me, just shy of being more than I could handle. I didn't know why it would make me want to beg for more. I didn't know why moisture had flooded into my panties. By all accounts, I should be frightened of being held immobile while having pain inflicted on me, but instead, I longed to see what else he would do to my body.
I felt movement and opened my eyes that I had closed when he'd bit me to see him reaching for something behind his back. The snick of metal sliding against metal had my eyes going wide. Instantly, a wave of terror washed over me so violently that I could do nothing but freeze in shock. My eyes followed the path of the blade as it lowered to my flesh and slid under the band of my bra. With one flick of his wrist, my bra was sliced open. I wished I could feel relief that the blade hadn't been meant for my skin, but I was firmly trapped in a nightmare from the past.
His black gaze took in the flesh he revealed, slowly running up my chest and back to my face before making the slow trail back down again. Then he paused, darting back up to my face, taking in the expression of terror as I stayed trapped in my memories. From a corner of my mind, I watched as he looked from my body and the scars that covered me, then to the knife he was still holding in his hand. His expression morphed into one of horror, and then he quickly tossed the knife away.
I flinched as it hit the wall. It was several long seconds or minutes—I had no way of knowing for sure—before my mind allowed any sound other than the whooshing of my own heartbeat to penetrate.
