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“You told me I had no choice in the matter. I thought you’d kill me or my mom if I refused. But if you’re gonna continue being an asshole, then I’m gonna go back to Pharr.” I go to push past him, but he grabs my ponytail and drags me back into the room. It hurts like hell.
“Let go,” I scream, trying to kick out at him, but he’s so much stronger, and I’m thrown onto the bed.
I try to get up again to run, but he’s on top of me, pinning me down with the weight of his body. His legs prevent mine from kicking out, so I do the next best thing and scream loudly in his face.
He growls with annoyance before slamming his lips down on mine.
It shocks me into silence.
My first kiss.
He’s not gentle. The slight stubble on his chin brushes against my soft flesh and adds to the experience. I should be disgusted with him doing this, but I find myself heating at my core. Seriously, I can’t believe I’m excited by this. There’s something wrong with me.
Eaton pulls back from me. A wicked look on his face.
“Are you going to be quiet now, or do I need to do that again?”
For a split second, I open my mouth to scream at him, not because I want to attract attention from someone who might help me, but because I want him to keep kissing me. I think better of it and purse my lips tightly shut together.
“Now, that was a difficult decision for you, wasn’t it?” he says as he lifts his hand from where it’s pinning mine to the bed. I’m thankful I’m still wearing the clothing he gave me when he strokes over my breast and down between my legs. “Warm, and I suspect wet. Just as I thought.” He smirks.
I squirm around under him, not wanting him to touch me. My anger rises again, flaring my nostrils. But before I can tell the asshole what I think of him, he climbs off me, and pulling his phone from his pocket, he makes a call.
“They can come in now,” he informs the person answering and then hangs up.
I turn my head nervously toward the door, dreading who’s about to enter.
Eaton laughs at me again. “I don’t know what smell I prefer from you—fear or sexual excitement.” I snap my head back to look at him and see he’s gently stroking his fingers over his lips, the lips he just kissed me with.
I bring my hand up to my lips and scrub them furiously.
“Jerk,” I whisper under my breath.
A commotion on the other side of the bedroom door draws my attention back to whomever Eaton has just summoned into the room.
It’s nothing like I feared, though. Two well-manicured women enter with a trolly full of what appears to be beauty products.
“Mr. Armstrong.” They both nod their heads toward him in greeting.
One of the ladies steps forward, and standing at the foot of the bed, she remarks, “I can see what you mean. She is beautiful but does require a bit of work.”
The other woman comes to stand next to her and says, “We’ll keep everything natural. She doesn’t need a lot of enhancements.” She lifts my hand and examines it carefully. I don’t look after my nails. Most of them are broken, and the few that aren’t have grease caked underneath. She curls up her nose in disgust. “Do you want these kept short and clean, or should we add extensions to make them a little prettier until she can grow her own naturally?
“I’ll leave that to your expert judgment, Cecilia,” Eaton responds, and I pull my hand back.
Cecilia appears to be the older of the two women. Her blonde hair is pulled back off her face in an elaborate twist, and her face is covered in makeup, but it looks completely natural, so I can’t tell her actual age. She’s wearing a uniform—a black tunic top, with a logo of an orchid in pink on the chest, and a matching black pair of pants.
The other woman has brown hair pulled back in a simple ponytail. She’s dressed in dark blue jeans that sculpt to her body like a second skin. On her top half, she’s wearing a plain white t-shirt that emphasizes her beautiful tan. I’m jealous because, even though I have Mexican ancestry, I’m always pale as I never get to spend time in the sun.
“Lena will stay and help you with whatever you need. I have a few meetings to attend, so you have a couple of hours,” Eaton addresses Cecilia before he turns his attention to the other woman. “Lena, you have my permission to discipline her if needed, although I’d like to think Shelby and I have come to a bit of an agreement, and she might even enjoy being pampered for a few hours.”
I am frozen to the bed, unsure of what is going on. Pampered? I thought he was about to strangle me a few minutes ago. I swear this man is bipolar.
“Any issues call me or Max,” Eaton concludes.
Lena bows her head, acknowledging his instructions.
He leans over me again. “Be good, my little butterfly. You’re about to emerge from your cocoon. Enjoy and relax. If you’re good, I’ll let you have your books back tonight.”
