This blurs all those lines, the very lines he put down and now what?
“You are breathtaking, Red,” He holds my eyes as he slowly gets up from the bed. I can see how I have affected him, the front of his pants tented with a clear outline of his cock. His muscles flex and roll as he slowly walks toward me. His eyes remain on mine, not taking another look.
Breath stuck in my throat, he stops in front of me, lifting a hand to trace a single finger in a straight line up my abdomen, over my sternum and between the valley of my breasts until he stops it above the fluttering pulse point in my neck.
“Touch me,” I whisper.
There, I said it. I’ve made it clear what I want. His green eyes flare with heat before darkening as the muscles in his cheeks flex as he grinds his teeth. He doesn’t move his hand away from my throat or his eyes away from my face and my breathing hitches a little as a knot of unease tightens in my stomach.
Don’t do this, Bast.
I swallow and the moment I was afraid of, happens. Indifference comes over him, extinguishing the heat in his eyes, in his touch. His hand drops and he takes a step away before he reaches down for the towel at my feet.
I’m not going to cry. I am not going to fucking cry over this.
But even though I tell myself not to, I feel the sting of them behind my eyes, my nose burning as my throat works passed the lump now there.
He gently wraps the towel back around me, purposely avoiding any contact. I never should have done this; I never should have shown him that vulnerability. Fuck.
This is ruined.
There’ll be no tempting the flames back now. The fire is sodden and dead.
“I’m sorry,” He says it quietly, shame written all over him, “I never should have asked for that.”
Tilting my chin up, I grab the edge of the towel, holding it tight to me. “Get out.”
“Red, you need to understand –”
“Get. Out.” I snap, “Get out now, Sebastian.”
“I’m sorry.” He reaches for his shirt and slides his arms through it, eyes on me.
Ice forms over my entire body, hardening my shell, pushing back that emotion wanting to crush me. He doesn’t even realize he has the ability to destroy me, doesn’t even realize he just did.
Stupid, stupid, girl,my mother’s voice is loud through the roaring in my ears, her condescending tone and hate clear even in my imagination. I can only imagine what her face might look like if she knew about this, how hard she would slap me. She’d call me a whore. A dirty slut.
My skin tingles with the memories. It happened before, when she found out I kissed a boy in high school but along with the names, she made me strip and then she scrubbed me until my skin bled. Cleansing is what she told me it was.
No man will want a used up little whore, Willow and if we are going to survive in this world you must be pure.
I cringe at the memory. It wasn’t me she was worrying about, it was herself. You see, my father left her but not me. He made sure I was looked after, had atrust fund set up, paid all my school fees and my college expenses but her, he left her to rot.
The only thing he didn’t do was take me with him when he left.
She deserved it, and I’m sure the way she treated me was a punishment aimed at him.
And that’s what happens when you have fucked up parents. Generational trauma and nightmares that follow you even years later, when they’re long dead and little more than bones in the ground.
Chapter Eight
Her glazed eyes sear into me where they scowl in my direction, any trace of vulnerability wiped from her face.
Weak. I am fucking weak.
But I needed to see, Ineededto see her. All of her.
I never should have asked though; my selfish desires and lack of control are not her burden to bear. Yet I put it on her shoulders anyway and now look what I’ve done. I need Willow far more than she needs me; far more than I think she realizes but then I don’t show her that do I? I take from her with little to give.
