She pushes at my chest. The cage wall rattles. This isn’t freaking her out enough. She’s just too timid.
“Maybe I should hold you down and pour alcohol down your throat,” I goad. “Let’s see if your ex was all talk, or full of–oof.”
She punched me in the throat? I cough, but inside, I’m proud. At least she’s angry.
Good girl.
She ducks under my arm and puts distance between us. Her chest heaves. “That was uncalled for, Cross.”
I pull the flask from my back pocket. “So is that a no?”
Her face pales.
I shake it, letting her hear the slosh of liquid.
“Cross–”
I’ve found the trigger. One of them. She stares at me with huge eyes, and her feet stop moving.
Bad move.
I approach slowly. Carefully. I drop my arm, but she still seems too caught up in the fact that I have a flask to notice I’m getting closer. The cage is a circle–there’s no corner to box her in. But her fear is a cage all its own, and I seem to have locked her inside it with one simple action.
She doesn’t notice I’m right in front of her until my hand is in her hair.
Her lips part, her breath ragged, and the flinch that rolls through her body is wicked. I tug her head back, and her gaze flicks to mine.
“Drink it, and we’ll have a little fun,” I say.
My stomach rolls at the insinuation. It was very fucking clear what that douche said in the cage, but Scarlett hasn’t admitted anything beyondhe isn’t an ex. Get her drunk, and what, she’ll open her legs?
Or she’ll pass out and not know what he’s doing?
One or the other.
Slut or victim.
I touch the cap of the flask–closed–to her lips, and she shuts down. I watch the light vanish from her expression like a candle being blown out.
Does she really think so little of me?
Probably, you dick.
How the fuck are we going to work around this fear? I release her hair, but she doesn’t move. Some part of her has taken over and pushed her into survival mode.
That makes me fucking livid.
I toss the flask and grasp her jaw lightly. Her nostrils flare, and her gaze slides to mine then away.
“Don’t do that, Scarlett,” I say in a low voice. Concern prickles at me. “Come back.”
Nothing.
I shake her head.
Nothing.
I can’t tell if I’m angrier at her or myself. I didn’t think it would causethismuch of a reaction.
