I told myself I’d wait. But she keeps on pushing. Scratching atthe bars. Daring me to claim her. And I’ve never been the kind of man to back down from a dare.
I need to make hersee.Not with words. Not with warnings. With skin. With pain. With every inch of me she’s been holding back from claiming her body. I hear it in her breathing. I see it in the dilation of her pupils. She fucking wants it, alright. But she will never admit that.
My boots slam heavy against the floorboards as I storm toward the stairs. The bourbon bottle crashes onto the table with a crack loud enough to rattle the frames on the wall.
She’s up there. Crying, probably.
Good.
She needs to remember what happens when she forgets who I am. Not just the sheriff. Not just the law. But her goddamn future.
I climb the stairs and freeze at her door. Nothing but silence—no breathing sounds, no movement. Then a faint scrape followed by delicate footsteps. She’s coming to me. Must’ve caught my shadow under the frame.
It’s playtime, baby.
She steps into the corridor. Shadows stretch across the walls, black tendrils that taunt us. The air sours, floorboards moaning underfoot, like they know exactly what’s coming.
She meets my gaze—there it is again, that stubborn spark in her eyes. That stupid light I’ve tried a hundred times to snuff out.
“Jacob—you’re drunk. Come on, lets?—"
“I’m done with your games, Summer,” I snarl. “You push me ‘til I snap, then act like you didn’t light the match yourself. You want the monster? You fucking got him.”
I jerk my chin toward the stairs.
“My bedroom. Now.”
She hesitates. I growl, mean and low. “Now.”
She shakes her head. No isn’t an option. I grasp her by her nape and pull her head back, forcing her to look me in the eye, while pushing her back toward her door. If she won’t come to my room, I’ll fuck her in hers.
She turns against my grip, bracing for impact. I close the gap soshe can taste bourbon and rage on my breath and slam her against the wall next to her doorframe.
“You wanna rape me? Force me to my knees? Go ahead. You’ve hurt me enough already.” She spits, tears forming from the corners of her eyes.
I smile then—a wolf’s grin, raw and hungry. I lean in slow, like maybe I’ll kiss her. Maybe I’ll give her something soft before pain.
She slaps me before our lips touch. A hollow crack. It barely stings—but it lands. Silence roars through the hallway. She immediately cowers, holding her hands up.
I seize a fistful of her hair and hurl her into her room. She scrambles, clawing at my arm.
“Jacob—please—stop?—”
But I don’t.I throw her onto her bed like she’s nothing. She curls into herself—small, trembling, fragile. Gone is the defiant girl, only fear remaining. I stand over her, chest heaving, eyes locked. I could end this now. Remind her who owns her body, her soul, her every heartbeat.
My hand drifts to my belt.
Her eyes—wide, wet, pleading—halt me in my tracks. For one frigid moment, I despise myself for hesitating. Then, a surge of fury turns on her for causing my pause. The belt slips from my grasp.
"You don’t want this? Then tell me why your breath hitches every time I touch you. Why your eyes beg for me to claim you?”
She doesn't utter a word. Just watches me like a rabbit, frozen in terror, waiting for the inevitable snap of the trap.
"You want me, too. And you can’t hide it for shit. One day it’ll happen, but you don’t get to call it rape," I growl under my breath. "Tonight, you need a brutal dose of reality instead."
I drag her from the bed by her legs and pull her into the bathroom. I hurl her under the shower and position the head directly above her.
"Jacob, don’t?—"
