He tightens his hold on my wrist, almost crushing my bones, and my eyes sting. “I told you not to let me catch you where you don’t belong, remember? So I’m taking you back. To St. Mary’s.”
“I’m not –”
“You like making scenes, don’t you?” he says with clenched teeth. “If you don’t come with me right now, I’ll make you such astar of your little striptease show that you’ll be crying about it for days to come. So we’re leaving, you and me.”
I thought I’d seen him angry but he’s furious right now.Furious,and I wonder if he was like this when he punched that guy.
If his cheekbones looked that sharp or if there was sweat dotting his forehead. If his shoulders looked as massive and mountainous as they appear right now, wrapped up in vintage leather.
“Okay. B-but…”
“But what?”
I don’t know. I have no idea what I was going to say. I had noideathat he’d react this way either. So violently.
I mean, I knew he’d react andmaybeget angry, but I never thought he’d be on the verge of blowing up.
“I came here with my friends and –”
He bends even closer, his swinging chain almost hitting my chin. “You better pray that I don’t find out who your friends are or I’m going to bury them so deep in detention that they won’t be able to get out for the entire year. And not because they broke the rules and came here. But because they brought you here, in that t-shirt, looking like that.”
“L-looking like what?”
“Like agoddamnfuck doll.”
“I’m sorry?”
“If you didn’t want my attention, then you shouldn’t have taken your clothes off in front of me. You shouldn’t have worn that joke of a t-shirt.” He grits his jaw and almost smashes the tendons of my wrist with his hold. “So walk before I make you.”
My t-shirt got his attention?
Seriously?
It’s a normal white crop top, baring my midriff. Well, it’s off-shoulder too, but I always wear things like this. Usuallyunderneath my chunky sweater, but tonight I wanted to make some asinine point that I can’t even remember right now. So I went without it.
It definitely does not warrant a reaction like this.
My outrageous actions do, sure. But not what I’m wearing.
I look at his seething features before looking down at my t-shirt. “You have a problem with m-my t-shirt?”
“I have a problem with yourcockteaseof a t-shirt, yes.”
I flinch. “But I wear this all the time.”
He doesn’t like that and the havoc he’s wreaking on my wrist with his fingers increases. “Well, consider this your first and only warning. You’re not wearing it anymore.”
“But I… What’s wrong with it?”
“What’s wrong with it is that every drunk guy within ten feet of you is looking at you like you’re a piece of meat. Like they wouldn’t mind getting their hands on some of that.” He jerks his chin at me and I’m starting to feel even more self-conscious than before. “Because you’re taunting them, flashing them your pale-as-fuck belly and that swipe of a belly button. That’s what you’re doing, aren’t you? Teasing them. Making them look at you. Stealing their attention. Don’t tell me you thought there wouldn’t be consequences.”
“I wasn’t taunting anyone. I was…”
Trying to make a point.
“Walk.”
“You don’t like that? Guys looking at me.”
