He never moved to defend himself, barely moved at all except on impact from each small blow. I let loose my rage, expecting a storm and found only a light rain. I fell still, my breath heaving as I knelt on the bed.
“You’re angry.”
My laugh was caustic. “Damn right, I’m angry. You could have killed me.”
“I wouldn’t have.”
“Just like you wouldn’t hurt your friends, you wouldn’t ever hurt a woman,” I said sarcastically. “You’re so fucking full of virtue that I can’t even breathe.”
I stared at the golden skin of his back, his arms—completely unblemished. He wasn’t hurt by my blows, but maybe my words could wield more damage.
“Who hurt you?”
His shoulders tensed.
“Who bent you over and fucked you in the ass?”
“You shouldn’t talk like that.” His voice was deceptively mild.
“Oh, you don’t like it when I use bad words, is that it? You like me innocent and compliant, right? Is that how you were when someone shoved their…their cock in your asshole? Did it hurt?”
“Yeah.”
I blinked, surprised he had answered me. “How did he do it?”
“They. How did they get the jump on me and hold me down? That’s what you want to know?”
No, not really. It sounded horrible, even if I had cause to hate him. I would never wish that on anyone, not even Hunter. Especially Hunter.
“How?” I whispered, some demon inside me, some spirit who knew he needed to tell me.
He shrugged slightly, a lift of one muscular shoulder. “It’s not that hard when a man isn’t expecting it, when he’s caught unaware and alone. When there’s no one to help him. They were experienced, and I wasn’t as tough then. I didn’t need to be.”
A deep breath. “Did no one hear you?”
He looked back, his gaze hard. “I didn’t scream, Evie. I prayed.”
I closed my eyes against the turmoil in his gaze but that only gave canvas to the horrible picture of his words. Hunter on his knees, Hunter held down, Hunter praying…for help, for mercy? It didn’t matter. It made me want to throw up.
“Besides,” he said as casually as if he were speaking about the weather. “It isn’t muscles that make you strong. It’s how much you want it. Those guys at the diner? I won that fight because they didn’t want it as badly as I did. They didn’t want you as bad as I do.”
“Why?” I asked evenly. “Am I some sort of revenge against the world? Or we’re all animals so who cares anyway?”
“Doesn’t matter how it started. I’m not letting you go.”
“But you said…in the kitchen…not much longer. You said so.”
He paused, at war with himself. “You want this as much as I do.”
My breath left me for a minute.
“You’re delusional,” I forced out. “You’re telling yourself that so you feel better about what you’re doing.”
“Who the hell else are you going to let touch you now?” he burst out. “Even before I got to you, you were so damn tied up in knots that I can’t believe you actually drove all the way out there. Now I’ve…”
Broken me. I remembered his question from earlier. Did I trust him not to break me? But he believed he already had. He believed I would never fight back, and maybe he was right to think so. Even if I’d had a good reason not to fight in the beginning, when I’d thought he might truly hurt me, why not now?
Strangely, I realized that he wouldn’t really harm me. He’d physically restrain me from getting away, but he wouldn’t kill me for trying. So what was stopping me? Unless I really did like this. Not fighting had become a choice now. If he’d ever stolen my free will, it had surfaced completely now. If I wanted to get away from him, I could.