Strong hands catch me.
“Watch it,” he says in that same voice he uses to threaten me, to compliment me. They’re the same thing when they come from him. Everything about him warns me away and draws me close. I’m tearing apart just to be near him, breaking under the weight of my fear and desire.
“Let me go,” I whisper.
He doesn’t. His hands tighten on my arms. “Where are you going?”
“Away from here.” Away from you. “This was a mistake.”
“Ah,” he says. Just that, and then he tugs me gently toward him. The heat of his chest is solid against my back, supporting me and holding me in place. “Are you afraid of me, Hannah?”
My teeth clench. “Don’t fucking call me that.”
He pauses as if I’ve surprised him. “Why does it matter, with just you and me here?”
I force myself to take a deep breath. Straightening, I turn to face him. His eyes are curious, his stance wary. And he isn’t wearing any shoes. That’s what strikes me about him. The gray T-shirt snug around his arms, the worn jeans. Th
ey’re more casual versions of what he wears at the club every night. But he always has on thick shoes, almost like boots, when he works. Even at the fight, with no shirt on, he had slipped into big, unlaced sneakers before coming into the locker room.
Only now, standing in the hallway of his apartment building, is he standing without shoes. It makes him seem somehow more real—a real man, with real hopes and dreams that I can never be a part of. The future is for some other girl. I’m just the tease he needs to fuck to forget, the bitch he needs to punish. I’m the sentence, and this night, this is a period.
My feet carry me backward. Somehow I manage not to trip. My hands grope the smooth wall and find the button—and press.
His eyes narrow. “Lola?”
I hate that he gets it right this time. That he respects me enough to call me what I want.
But not enough to let me leave.
He steps forward. “You’ve come this far, gorgeous. You’re going to finish this.”
I raise my head. Never mind if my whole body is trembling—I will meet his eyes, those dark pools of lust and resentment, like windows to the past. “And if I say no?”
The windows frost over. “That’s not an option.”
Elevator doors slide open behind me. I glance at the empty mirrored box.
“Don’t,” he says.
I close my eyes. I’m not sure how I found the strength to come here.
I don’t think I have the strength to leave.
He steps toward me slowly, casually. His hand is tight when it fists in my hair. I remember he used to love my hair. He used to stroke it, to play with it, to press the strands between his blunt square-tipped fingers. Now all he wants to do is pull it, use it like a leash to yank my head back. I stare at a chrome light fixture. Yellow light clashes with the stinging tears in my eyes, making a kaleidoscope, something pretty in the face of an ugly past, an ugly present.
His voice is low in my ear. “You’re going to walk down that hall and go inside my apartment. Then you’re going to strip. I don’t need to watch. I see you do that any night of the week. What I want is what comes after. You. On the couch. Facedown, ass in the air, ready to take whatever I give you.”
* * *
He said he didn’t need to watch, but I still thought he would. It’s somehow more unnerving to get undressed when I’m standing alone in the living room.
It makes me feel ashamed, which shouldn’t even be possible after what I’ve done at the club. Blue is just gifted like that—gifted at making me feel like shit. I take off my dress with quick, efficient movements and toss it onto a chair in the corner. My heels get kicked off to the floor underneath. My bra and panties come next. Then I’m naked in a room I’ve never been in, my skin pebbling under the cool air from the vent above me.
Blue returns from the kitchen with an amber bottle hanging from his fingers.
Only one bottle. Of course he hasn’t offered me a drink. I’m not here to enjoy myself, and he’s not my host. We aren’t going to pretend this is a date. I haven’t forgotten what this is about, but if I ever do, he’ll remind me with the subtle digs.
He nods to the couch. “Bend over. I want to see what those fuckers don’t get to.”