It was pitch dark. Not the kind of dark that comes with a dim room or drawn curtains. Just full, complete black. I blinked a few times, disoriented, waiting for my eyes to adjust, but there wasn't much to adjust to. No light bleeding in from the hallway. No flicker from the clock. Nothing.
I swallowed around my dry throat as I tried to piece the evening together. We had wine. Dinner. Some conversation. Marcus topped off my glass. More than once.
I'd been drunk before. Tipsy, stupid, clumsy drunk. I remembered how that felt. This... This wasn't that.
I reached down and tried to tug my trousers back into place, but they didn't want to sit right. The fabric bunched at the hips, and the effort made my stomach twist harder. I smoothed my shirt down next, fumbling with the hem to pull it back over my stomach. I must've tossed and turned more than usual. I must've kicked the blanket off, managed to undo half my clothes without realising it.
I turned onto my side, trying to ease the nausea and will the soreness away. If I could just catch my breath, maybe I could think straight.
The door opened, and light from the hallway spilt in. It wasn't much, but it may as well have been a spotlight that hit me in the face. I snapped my eyes shut and raised a hand toblock the brightness, my heart thudding at the sudden change.
Footsteps moved across the room, quiet but deliberate. I squinted up through the light, blinking to make sense of the shape coming toward me. It took a second to recognise Marcus – shirtless, hair tousled, his joggers riding low on his hips. I couldn't make out his expression, but something about the way he moved made my stomach knot up.
"You woke up quicker than I expected." Those words were barely audible. I wasn't even sure I'd heard him right.
I tried to sit up but only made it so far before I had to stop. "What... What time is it?"
He didn't answer. Instead, his hand closed around my shoulder and shoved me back against the bed. I hit the mattress with a jolt, and the sudden push knocked the air from my lungs.
Before I could speak, he swung one leg over and straddled my hips to hold me in place. His hands came down again, this time to grab both of my wrists and force them above my head. His grip tightened instantly, and his fingers dug in hard.
I gasped at the sharp flare of pain that shot through my arms. All of this movement made my head spin. "Marcus! What are you doing?"
He didn't answer that, either. He stared down at me, his chest rising and falling slow and steady.
That's when the pieces clicked into place. The wine. The way it hit too fast. The fog that never quite lifted. The soreness. My clothes being out of place.
No. No, no, no, no, no...
"You – " The word cracked out of me. I strained against his hold, panic clawing up my throat fast and hot. "You did something. While I was out. What the fuck did you do?!"
His thighs squeezed around me as he used all of his weight to force me deeper into the mattress. My body arched instinctively in protest. If he tightened his grip any more, I wasafraid he might break my wrists.
I twisted as hard as I could to try to throw him off, but it barely budged him. His weight was solid, braced fully over me. My legs kicked, caught nothing. I jerked my arms again, but all I did was pull the muscles in my shoulders.
"Get off!" My voice cracked from the force of the shout. "Get the fuck off me!"
He didn't. His face didn't change, either. If anything, he looked bored. Detached.
I could see it now. The part of him he'd always kept so carefully masked. The part that didn't care how much I struggled or what I said. The part that had been hiding behind all his careful words and calculated movements.
I fought harder. Twisting, kicking, trying to throw my weight in any direction that might shake him off. My shoulders burned, and my wrists hurt from the way he held them, but I didn't care. I needed to get free.
A rough, wordless shout tore from my throat. Just raw noise, loud and sharp and desperate. Anything to startle him. Anything that might make someone hear what was going on. Anything to make him stop –
His hand clamped over my mouth and nose so fast it knocked the breath right out of me.
I choked on the sudden lack of air. My free hand flew to his arm, clawing, nails digging in. My legs kicked wildly, but it did absolutely nothing. He was too damn strong, and his grip on me only tightened.
He leaned down to put his mouth close to my ear. His voice was low. Cold. "Don't wake the neighbours."
My whole body froze. I knew exactly what that meant. If I kept yelling, if I made too much noise...
He'd make sure I stayed quiet.
Marcus must have thought that was enough. After a long, tense second, he eased his hand away from my face.
I didn't scream.
