“Fuck, boys. I can practically feel my little reckless dripping for me.”
I don’t dare open my eyes to see the reactions of his friends behind him, and I know damn well he won’t let anyone else touch me. So his callout to them is just to get a rise out of me, which again, my body gives him as I feel myself shiver as he continues to touch me. Or maybe it’s from the idea that we’re being watched like this that turns me on further. Either way, I’m finding it really hard to stay strong when fear and arousal, betrayal and rapture meet in the center of my body and tangle in a messy fight for attention. He is literally wearing me down by attrition, causing me to fracture.
I lift my head and bring my eyes level to his. I lower my tone to portray the very weak displeasure and resentment I know I still hold toward him as I whisper, "I want nothing to do with you after what you did to me, Trace."
He doesn't move, but I feel something switch in him, like a silent avalanche triggered by my outburst and ready to engulf me in its icy capture. It's not visible but his breathing changes and I feel the way my blood runs cold, processing his anger.
"After whatIdid toyou?" He tilts his head, his tone is harsh and I can hear in his voice that he's seething underneath the protection of his mask.
The hand he's got over my hip digs deeper while the one under my skirt stays completely and frighteningly still as he presses into me.
"You want to know something, Olivia?" His whisper is husky and the fury in his words is unmistakable. "Maybe you are a part of the reason why I'm here."
"I know you've been watching me," I spit, wanting to make him aware of the fact that he can't actually deny he's not here for me when he sought me out in the first place—after all these years of no contact—and by how he's got me up against a tree like this.
"It's kind of hard not to," he admits. "But don't mistake me for the guy you once knew," he adds and I roll my eyes, hating that he's still choosing to stay hidden behind his mask which is now starting to really piss me off.
I now know that his anger is aimed toward me and it feels like a fucking knife to the back because I have no idea why. Maybe there is something in my shadowed memories that I’m missing, something that I don’t remember that would explain why he’s acting like this or what I did wrong. All I know is what he did to me. Though, I can’t possibly think of a good enough reason to throw away what we had and now, to treat me as if I was nothing.
But I don't know why he'd be watching me from outside my window or why he'd be stalking me from the shadows within the forest. But the way he's toying with me right now, despite what my body wants, is not the action of someone whose desire is to winsomeone back or to apologize or to fix what's been broken. It's to avenge and to hurt.
"Trust me," I start, trying to shimmy back to remove myself from feeling how unquestionably hard he still is between my legs. "I'm not holding my fucking breath."
He chuckles darkly. "Actually…"
Trace removes his hand from its searing grip at my waist and swiftly opens his palm against my throat, throwing my head back against the tree once more. He closes his fist around my neck and squeezes just enough to make me literally choke on my next breath.
"I was going to go easy on you, Olivia. But seeing as you can't seem to keep your fucking smart mouth shut, I think I'll resort to fighting fire with fire, love. See how much my sweet little reckless enjoys being burned alive." I can't even comprehend what he's saying, because I'm too focused on the grip he has on my throat and the burn in my eyes and the . . . arousal between my legs.
"You see," he starts. His timbre is now dark enough to cause me slight panic. "I plan to break you apart, Olivia. Piece by fucking piece. I plan to make you face your fears and tear apart the secrets that hold you together and when I’m done with you, you’ll be begging me to put you back together."
I feel a lump form in my throat, carrying the urge to scream with it, and as I try to let it out or swallow it down, it only causes me to tense up more which creates the illusion that his hand is tightening around me when I know he hasn't moved.
"I'm going to watch you tremble as my name escapes your pretty little mouth, breathlessly begging for my forgiveness." I can almost picture the smirk I hearagainst his words. I know it all too well. But it feels threatening this time. And I have the right mind to believe it. I’ve never experienced this kind of aggression from him. And if I could ever change my mind about anything in my life, it’s the fact that I am not afraid of anything. Because in this moment, I believe that my biggest fear is Trace Kavanaugh.
But I'm not going to let him make me feel helpless to his relentless attack on me, not when I don't even know what the hell he's so bent over for. Though, with the constricting hold he's got on me, I can only muster up one gurgled, fear-licked word.
"Why?"
Trace finally lifts his mask, a slow but surreal moment that I don't even get to witness because my vision is blurred due to the way he's holding my head back and my eyes are only able to open halfway.
But I feel his face lower next to my ear, and I try my best to stay calm so that I can maintain the steady breathing I've managed to maintain through his chokehold.
His lips touch my ear; a fleeting moment passes where I hope he'll move his hand under my panties simultaneously. But instead, I'm met with the heat of his threatening whisper.
"Whatyoudid tomewill haunt you, Reckless."
And just like that, he lets me go and walks away, pulling his mask back over his head.
I have to force my breaths to even out as I fall to the ground, not able to catch myself in time. But I watch as he walks backwards,tskingwhile wagging his finger at me as he joins his two friends, almost as if warning me to stay away or telling menotosomething.
“By the way, the pink suits you,” he says as he continues backward, and I can only assume he’s talking about my hair. Then he turns swiftly on his feet—the crunch of leaves, dirt, and gravel echoes under his black boots—before adding, “And it does look better down.”
Trace and his friends walk through the trees, disappearing into the night as the darkness consumes them.
He was fucking spying on me? At the cabin? He was close enough to hear Alli’s comment about my hair?
I reach for my neck and feel the heat from his touch still burning on my skin despite the light flutter of snowflakes now falling from the sky. Dirt and snow scratch at my legs as I lift myself off the ground.
