But as my orgasm subsides and my eyes slowly open, I realize I was never alone in the first place.
Dixie is watching. Her eyes are fixated on my dick and what just squirted out against the walls.
She immediately averts her eyes and walks off. Probably to the bed, since I locked the door behind me and the only key is right here in this bathroom. But fuck, I didn’t think she’d look.
I quickly rinse the walls and myself before drying off. Without clothes on, I grab my phone and my gun, and I barge out the door, setting my eyes on her. She’s hovering over the small kitchenette and pours water into a glass even though her hands are still tied. But she manages to chug it down in one go. However, when she puts it down, her hands shake.
As I place my hand on her shoulder, she jolts as if she didn’t know I was coming. As if she didn’t just commit a sin … and enjoy it thoroughly.
I could see it in her eyes, that same lust I feel whenever I think of fucking her raw.
It’s the forbidden fruit neither of us can have but both of us crave more than anything.
“Jesus,” she mutters, spinning on her heels.
“Nah, it’s just me,” I jest. I don’t know why I felt the need to make a stupid joke. Maybe to release some of the tension floating in the air.
She chuckles but rolls her eyes too, then looks away. “Whatever.”
I cock my head and chuck my phone onto the counter. “Do you always spy on guys taking showers?”
“I, uh …” she mumbles, frowning. “No, of course not, but—”
“I don’t mind.” I place my hand on the counter behind her. “Watch all you want. I’m not gonna stop.”
She swallows, staring at my lips like I am at hers. It’s hard to hold back, but I must resist. We’re bad for each other in every way.
She ruined my life, and I ruined hers. Always remember that, Brandon.
I take a deep breath, and say, “You’d better not try anything stupid, Dixie.”
“Look who’s talking.” She scoffs. “You’re the one keeping me here.”
She always thinks she can beat me at my own game. “For good reasons, and you know it.”
“Good? You call this good?” She holds up her tied hands.
I cock my head. “I’d prefer you didn’t try to escape.”
“Or kill you,” she adds. “Because I would.”
I snort. That’s far from a surprise to me, but she seems to want to rub it in any chance she gets. “Of course, you would,” I reply.
“I tried,” she says.
“And failed,” I counter, raising a brow.
She’s only trying to make herself feel better now, and it’s obviously not working, judging from the sourpuss look on her face.
“At least I had enough balls to go through with it,” she says, narrowing her eyes.
Touché.
“Maybe I will. Maybe I won’t,” I reply. “Do you really wanna find out?”
“Oh, please. If you did, you would’ve done it already,” she says, and she puts her fingers against my chest and pushes me back. “Now …Go. Away.”
“We’re stuck here together. It doesn’t matter if you like it,” I reply. “And I’m not going anywhere.”
“Fine.” She rolls her eyes, but they linger on my waist for just a second too long. “Why are you keeping me here anyway if you don’t wanna talk and don’t wanna do anything but stare at me?”
“Who says I don’t wanna talk? I have plenty of questions for you.” I tighten the towel around my waist. “For one, why the fuck did you try to bring down the hotel, and two, what the fuck do you have against my uncle?”
She doesn’t know about him being there that night. She can’t. There’s no way she saw him.
“Everything,” she replies, her cheeks reddening by the second. “And put some clothes on, for God’s sake.”
I don’t give a damn whether she thinks this is appropriate or not. “No, I wanna know what he did,” I say, placing my fist on the kitchenette counter behind her. “You didn’t come there for me.”
“It was a nice coincidence,” she retorts, lowering her still tied hands. “But no.”
“Then why?”
I need to know so I can justify the fact that I took her away from there. If not, and her reasoning fails the test, then it was all for nothing, and I risked my job and my life for diddly fucking squat.
“What did he do? Tell me,” I say.
She laughs. “You’re kidding, right?” Her head tilts back, and she laughs some more. “This has to be a joke.”
I shove her against the counter and grasp her by the throat. “Tell. Me. What. He. Did.”
I can feel her swallow under my hand. “All right. All right.” She carefully pries my fingers loose. “He double-crossed me and my dad and destroyed our business, so I’m gonna destroy his too.”
Double-crossed her and her dad? What? How?
My uncle would never do business with the Burrells. He knows what they did.
“With what?” I ask, not trusting a word of what she says. “How did he ruin your family’s business?”
“Only if you untie me,” she says.
Well, fuck. She knows how to pressure me into giving her what she wants. Just like the good ole days.
Grumbling, I reach for her hands and pull the belt loose, chucking it on the floor behind me.
She rubs her wrists, and mumbles, “Thanks.”
“Now talk,” I say.
“Like you don’t know.” She presses her lips firmly together. “I saw you at the farmhouse, Brandon.”
My brows draw together. Fuck. “You mean—”
“Drugs. We sold him drugs. And not just a handful.”
Drugs … the farmhouse … it’s all starting to click now.
“Yeah, that’s right. You saw it with your own eyes,” she says, pushing a finger against my chest. “We both know you were there the night of the fire, so don’t fucking pretend you don’t know anything about it.”
I know she knows. I always knew.
She was the one who found my Zippo.
It’s what started the chain of events that led to this moment. The whole reason we’re in this position in the first place. That fucking farm … I should’ve never gone there to see her.
Chapter Twenty
Brandon
Past
November 6th