Hold You Against Me (Stripped 4)

Shock leaves me cold. This isn’t the charming boy who paid for my latte. This isn’t the hot guy sneaking a feel underneath the table on a date. This isn’t even about sex. I saw what my sister did, both at the strip club and in our previous life—the way sex became about power. That’s how this feels, like Shane is trying to prove a point.

That’s not how I want my first time to be. Cruel hands on my back, hot breath on my neck. I swore to myself that my first time would be with someone I loved. I may be able to break that promise for Shane, but at least I want the illusion.

I make my voice soft. “Please, Shane. I’m sorry I made you wait so long. Let’s just find a bed, and I promise—”

“I said no. Did you hear me? We’re going to lift that short skirt of yours right here, right now, and I’m going to get what I’ve been waiting for.”

My shock hardens into anger. I would do a lot to avoid conflict, but I won’t lose my virginity in a back alley. I know I seem soft—it’s why my sister is so protective of me. But underneath I’m forged in steel. Even she doesn’t know how that happened. She doesn’t know what our father did and she never will.

I push against his broad chest, and maybe in surprise, he takes a half step back. “I said no, Shane.”

And then he does something horrible—he laughs. The most disturbing thing about that laugh is that I’ve heard it before. It doesn’t sound particularly sinister. It’s an ordinary, fun-loving laugh from an ordinary, fun-loving guy, except he’s laughing about something dark and twisted.

“No one will care,” he says. “You’ve been dating me for months.”

My chest feels tight. I’ve been in this situation before, with a man who wouldn’t take no for an answer. Last time I had a protector. I had Giovanni, but I’m alone now. “Stop,” I say. “This isn’t you.”

His lips brush over my cheek. “You don’t really know me.”

Then I feel his hands on my legs, pushing up. I shove my skirt down, but I’m no match for him. The cold air rushes between my legs—and then this hand is there, groping, feeling, taking.

No, I won’t let this happen. I make fists and hit him anywhere I can reach: his shoulders, his neck. Only when I manage to get the bruise on his face does he swear roughly. It seems to enrage him. Hard hands shove me back into the wall. The brick catches me in its cold net. My breath rushes out of me. Spots dance in front of my eyes.

Shane leans back to reach for his zipper.

A blur flashes in the corner of my eye, something dark and fast.

It crashes into Shane, and they slide along the gravel into the shadows. The sound of fists smacking flesh makes me wince. My hands shake as I cover my mouth. Oh God, this is just like before. Except I don’t know who had come after Shane. A stranger? I can’t see into the deep part of the alley, and I’m not getting any closer than I have to.

Without even meaning to, I take a step back toward the street. Then I turn, and I’m running to the entrance. The bouncer’s still there. Amy, too.

“Someone’s fighting,” I manage, breathless. “In the alley. Please help them.”

The bouncer doesn’t seem surprised. He mutters something into a mic attached to his shirt before taking off around the corner. I have to trust that he’ll break up the fight, but I don’t want to be here when he does. I don’t want to give Shane another chance to attack me.

“Oh my God,” Amy says. “He’s fighting again? Are you okay?”

No, I’m not okay. Not like she means. I’m not injured, but I’m cracking open inside, because for the briefest second, it had seemed like Giovanni was saving me. That’s impossible, I knew. He died years ago. It’s just some kind of flashback, a memory from when he saved me before.

More wishful thinking.

“Let’s get out of here, please,” I beg.

Amy doesn’t ask another question. She grabs my hand and steers us toward the side street where cabs line up. We get into the backseat without another word and take the ride home in silence, my shaking hand in hers.

Chapter Four

When I reach my building, I bypass the front door with its key-card entry. Instead I head into the alley beside my loft apartment and climb the fire escape. These are the kind that slant at a steep angle, more like skinny stairs than a ladder.

Sure enough, a matted bundle of blonde-brown fur wriggles on the second-floor landing.

“Hey, Lupo,” I murmur, keeping my voice soft and my movements slow.

He backs up until he’s at the corner of the bars, his small body trembling with anxiety. We’ve done this dance for weeks now, but he still doesn’t trust me to get close.

I think he belonged to whoever used to live here. Either that or he just likes to climb. The first time I caught a glimpse of shaggy fur, I opened the window and he raced down the stairs. After that I started leaving scraps in a bowl outside the window. Only when I come up through the stairs do we even get this close.

Sometimes I imagine snatching him up into my arm and bundling him inside. I could brush the knots out of his fur and feed him from my hand.