“Why so pissy, runaway?”
It’s easier than facing the truth.“Did you forget you abducted me from my life?”
“That’s not why you’re mad.”
“And you know what I feel?” I ask.
His eye twitches in the most unsettling way. “I can smell how much you want me, hear your heart. It’s like a drum, forcing mine to go along. And the way you’re looking up at me right now—that’s yourfuck meface. You’re pissed because youwantme to touch you. Even if it hurts me. In fact, you like that part.”
I have afuck meface? My nose wiggles as I try to memorize the feel of it—so I never let it happen again. “What else would I want from you? We’ve established you’re fuckable, and I’m trying so damn hard to hate you like you want, but you—” The hurt infiltrates my voice, softening it. “You made me think I mattered to you,” I sputter, gripping my knees and pulling them closer to my chest.
Chapter 10
EVER
Eli swallows what must be every doubt in existence before speaking, if I go by the exaggerated movement of his throat. “You matter.”
My heart short-circuits, the flow of blood interrupted with his two simple words that mean everything. And nothing. I matter only because he wants me to fix him.
“And that’s why I’ll do whatever I have to do to keep you hating me,” he says.
Doesn’t he see how remarkably he’s failing? I knock the back of my head into the wall. “Why? Why would you want that?”
“But first, I’m going to make you feel better,” he says, ignoring me, then drops his pack from his shoulders, sheds his suspenders and finally pulls his shirt over his head while moving from a crouch to his knees. He balls up the black fabric and tosses it across the room onto the bed, seemingly using every muscle possible.
My breath snags in my lungs. That smooth chest, the ridges of his abs.What is he doing to me?
“Lie down,” his deep voice commands, eyes flashing with mischief.
“You can’t touch me.” It’s not a threat or a taunt, purely fact, one I lament.
“Lie. Down.”
“On the floor? There’s a bed right there.” Shit. Why bother speaking?
He smiles. “You want to get in bed with me, little prisoner?”
“I told you not to call me that.”Because it reminds me of before.When things were different. And that’s not okay. Because what if I can’t havehim? I need him. Something about his body, about being close to him, it dulls the pain inside. Like a drug.
And I can’t stay away.
He leans in, his mouth a hair from my ear. The slightest movement from me would make him howl in pain, but his words have me frozen. “You might feel differently about that if my fingers were knuckle-deep in your pussy again.”
I hold my thighs tightly together, but it does nothing to stop the swelling. Or the wetness.
He laughs, low and quiet, no doubt smelling how he affects me. “I thought so.” I must take far too long to respond because he sighs loudly. “Never, do you want me to make you come or not?”
What if I took a break from holding back, from trying to hate, only long enough for release? It’d be meaningless. At least for him.
My fingers fidget in my lap. “You can’t.”
“Pants.” That’s all he says.
My lips tremble. “This isn’t a good idea.”
“I know.” It makes it harder when he doesn’t deny it. His perfect nose scrunches to the side in consideration. “It’s going to hurt like Malachite’s death stare.”
I huff and pull my knees closer. “I didn’t mean because of the pain.” He arches a brow at me. “I can’t simply forget everything and fuck you.”
