“I’m not being a bitch,” I shoot back, my temper igniting. “You’re being an asshole.”
His face changes, from something familiar to a stranger.
“Who the fuck do you think you are?” he sneers, “to talk to me like that?”
My pulse spikes. “Someone who expects the bare minimum from her boyfriend.”
“Bare minimum. Are you joking? After everything I’ve done for you. You were nothing until I found you.”
My stomach drops, a cold hollow opening beneath my ribs.
“I don’t complain when you talk about your little job in front of my family or our friends even though I see the looks on theirfaces,” he continues, stepping closer, face contorted. “The least you can do is show me the respect I’m owed.”
I bark out a humorless laugh.
What the fuck is actually happening right now?
“Respect? Like ditching me and then acting like I should apologize? And doubling down on insulting my family.”
Weeks—months—of small resentments bubble up, and my vision blurs.
“Yes,” he snarls, advancing. “Respect.”
My gut senses the threat before my brain, and I take a step back, palms lifting. “You’re being crazy.”
His hands grab my arms, fingers digging in hard enough to hurt. He yanks me forward, momentum throwing me off balance, and then he throws me backward. My back hits the sofa, breath knocked out of me in a sharp gasp.
“What the fuck?” Panic spikes in my veins as his heavy weight lands on me. “Get off!”
I kick furiously, trying to dislodge him as he leans down, breath hot against my ear, grip tightening.
“Yeah,” he murmurs, voice suddenly vicious. “Fight me.” His eyes hood as lust lights his eyes.
My skin crawls, and I want to throw up. This can’t be real.
“This isn’t funny,” I gasp, trying to shove him away.
He grips my shirt, yanking fabric so hard I hear threads tear. “You love this,” he whispers. “You love pushing until I snap. Big bad bitch. Show me how tough you are now.”
Fear slams into me full force. Oh my god, he’s not playing.
“Stop,” I shout, bucking frantically.
He presses closer, words hissing against my cheek. “You belong to me.”
My heart is hammering so hard it feels like it might burst,and then his mouth crushes mine, grinding the skin against my teeth until I taste blood.
The world narrows to what my senses tell me—his weight against my chest, the way my lungs burn because I can’t get a full breath, the pain in my wrist where he’s twisting, the blood in my mouth.
My thoughts fracture.
Clamping hard on his lip with my teeth, I lock my jaw until he screeches with pain and rears back enough for me to get the angle I need. My free fist catches him hard in his Adam’s apple, and as he reels back choking, I’m already off the sofa, my heel catching him in the sternum as he falls back.
I scramble sideways, heart pounding, every nerve on fire. Survival is my driving force.
Aaron lunges again, anger flashing across his face, as I race past him.
I don’t think. Diving for my purse, my fingers are clumsy. My breaths are coming in short, panicked bursts, but when my grip closes on my gun, the world slows. I spin, bring it up, aim it at Aaron’s chest. The safety flips off with a loud click.
