“You. Beat. Me!”
“I had you spanked—something your father should have done a long time ago.”
“You had no right.”
“You’re in my home. Under my hospitality. I’ll do to you whatever the fuck pleases me.” He released my hair just in time to keep from tearing the strands from its roots but then locked his arms around my body to keep me close. “But I will beat you until you’re unrecognizable, even to yourself, if you ever strike me again.”
I tried to suck in air and failed. He was holding me too tight. “I can’t breathe.”
“Am I understood?” he demanded, and I knew he wouldn’t let up until I yielded.
“Yes,” I squeaked.
I fought to breathe when he finally let me go. My scalp was screaming, and my body was overheated. I pulled myself together and made eye contact. He was watching me strangely.
“What?”
“You’re different.”
“You are, too.” His jaw tightened.
“No, Sprite. You’re just finally noticing me.”
Chapter Twenty
She’s not ready for promises.
MIAN
Seven Years Ago
“Mian?”
Oh, no. Go away. Please go away.
My teary gaze snapped from between my thighs to the door. I forgot to lock it in my hurry, so I pulled my knees tighter against my chest, hid my face between my knees, and braced.
Go away. Please go away.
I could hear his irritation when he snapped my name this time. Angel wouldn’t hesitate to turn this bad dream into a nightmare. I heard the bathroom door open and forced myself not to move when I wanted to just run away. This could not be happening.
“Why are you in here?”
“I just needed to use the bathroom. Jeez.”
“So, why are you crying?” I didn’t need to see his face to know how angry he was.
“I just am. Please go away.”
“Lift your face, tell me the truth, and maybe I’ll go away.” I couldn’t stand the gruffness in his tone. His voice seemed to deepen every day, and I hated how it made me feel. I couldn’t put a name to it. “Now, Mian.”
I lifted my face from between my knees and gritted my teeth. It was too late for me to take it back. Obeying this cocky, rude asshole was like trying to swallow a mouth full of nails.
“Those tears aren’t for nothing.”
“You’re right, but it’s none of your business, so please, please just go away.” His perfect eyebrows pulled down and his lips twisted to the side just before he kicked the door close. “What are you doing?”
“Why are you playing this game with me?” he barked. I flinched and retreated further into the corner. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
“Why do you care?” I screamed suddenly. I choked back the urge to scream again. When he didn’t respond, I looked away and studied the paint on the walls. Why couldn’t he just go away?
Seconds passed without words spoken. He never made a sound as he moved closer and then crouched to his haunches with his forearms resting on his knees. Muscles that weren’t there or quite so defined last summer caught my attention. How could he be this intimidating at only eighteen?
His face suddenly twisted and I realized too late that his gaze was between my thighs. “Are you hurt?”
Oh, God. He saw .
A whimper escaped me as I closed my legs again to hide the blood smeared between my thighs. My guard must have dropped while I was staring at him. “Please, please just go. I’m not hurt.”
He seemed to mull it over before jumping to his feet. I’d already reburied my head between my knees when the door opened and slammed a second later. The dam burst once it did.
Why couldn’t he have just left me alone? He’s never cared before.
I didn’t know how much time had passed when the door opened again. I couldn’t move. He ignored me this time and walked past me. I should have left so he could have the bathroom, but fear made my legs weak. It had been so quiet so when the sound of water rushing filled the room, I jumped.
Was he seriously going to shower with me sitting here?
I tore my gaze from the floor and watched as he held his long fingers under the water to test the temperature. When he was satisfied, he poured what looked like salt and smelled sweet from a dark blue and white bag. He then reached inside the large paper bag at his feet and pulled out a small bottle before pouring from the bottle.
He moved from the running water when bubbles started to form and opened the linen closet. After pulling out a thick, white towel, he walked past me again and bent to grab the bag. I almost swallowed my tongue when he turned and caught me staring. The butterflies in my stomach intensified. The only time I ever felt like this was when I had my first crush, only this felt more intense. More real.
Was it possible to have a crush on someone seven years older?
“Did you hear me?” His voice brought me back to awareness.
“What? Huh?”
“I said the water shouldn’t be too hot.”
“It’s for me?”