Cruel Infatuation (Underground Kings 3)

Undressing, I leave the heap of clothes in the middle of the tile floor and stare at myself in the mirror that’s hanging above the sink until the glass fogs, clouding my reflection.

I don’t know what Trevor sees, but I wish he didn’t. I sure as hell don’t see anything beautiful staring back at me.

I step inside the shower, and the lukewarm water has me sighing with relief. The sweltering heat on my skin fades, and I stand there for a minute, letting the rush of water flow down my body. I think about Isaac, how selfish I’ve been, and wrong it was for me to do what I did.

And what makes it even worse, I have no regrets.

I’d do it all over again.

“You’re such a shitty person, Finley,” I tell myself as I shut off the water. I yank the towel off the rack and wrap it around my body, tucking the edge of fabric under my arm. I wring my hair out and step out of the tub.

“You made a mistake. Just don’t talk to him anymore. Move on. Your attempt at an escape failed,” I mumble.

I hum as I stroll into my bedroom, my wet feet squishing against the hardwood floors. Opening up the secondhand antique dresser, I snag underwear and comfortable shorts along with a white tank top.

“You shouldn’t be allowed to walk around like that.”

I drop the clothes in my hand and spin around, clutching the towel tightly in my grasp.

Trevor.

I locked my door. He shouldn’t be in here.

“Get out of my room,” I hiss, but the bravado on the outside doesn’t match what I feel on the inside.

I’m shaking. My mouth is dry, and my pulse quickens. I’m standing here naked, only a thin towel covering my body.

And he’s looking at me like I’m his next drug fix.

Trevor’s dirty hair hangs like strings in his face, black as soot, and his eyes are flames as he takes a step forward, pushing himself off the wall. His hand drags along the turquoise comforter of my bed as he prowls closer to me. I lean against the dresser, wishing it would swallow me hole so I could disappear.

I want to be anywhere but here.

Trevor stops in front of me and bites his lip into his mouth. He rubs his hand down his shaved chest, dipping his fingers over the ridges of his lean abdomen. “You’re a real pretty girl, Finley.” He reaches toward my face, and I flinch when he runs his fingers through my wet hair. “I love the color of your hair. Damn, you’d do well on the street.”

His fingers drift down my cheek, and I pull away. “Don’t touch me!”

Trevor slams me against the dresser, and I can feel the hard ridge of his erection in his jeans pressing against my thigh. His hand is around my throat. “Listen, your prude fucking bitch. I own you. I own this fucking house. I own your mom. I own everything in this town. When I say you’ll do well on the street, it’s a fact because you’re going to bring me a lot of money. You don’t have a choice. You’ll sell for top dollar. I bet you’re a virgin too. All young and ripe, waiting to be taken by a real man.”

My face flushes with embarrassment and terror. I’ve never been this close to a man before, and he’s scaring me. I know how it sounds. Weak, pathetic, and I’m ashamed. “You don’t know shit.” I gather spit in my mouth and launch it in his face. His hands fall away from my throat, and I take the opportunity to run.

“You little slut!”

I run to the door, heart pounding and blood rushing to my ears. As I wrench it open, he grabs me by the arm and throws me on the bed.

“I’ll fucking show you.”

“Get off me!” I scream, and a tear slides out of the corner of my eye when he rips the towel from my body. I kick him in the face, and his head snaps back. I turn to roll off the bed, but he grabs my ankle and yanks me to the edge. “No,” I cry when I hear the zipper of his pants.

“Shut up, Finley. I’m sick of you throwing this body around and not expecting it to get claimed. I’ll show you. Maybe I’ll keep you all for myself because this body is to fucking die for.”

“You aren’t going to touch me, creep,” I say through tight teeth. I lift my leg again and kick him in the ribs, then I knee him between his legs. He falls to the floor, pants drifting down his hips. I can see his bush.

I grab the towel and wrap it around me, but he catches the end of it and tries to rip it from my hands.

He stands and slaps me across the face, and the force has me seeing stars.

“I’ll give it to you. You can fight!” He gasps. A light sheen of sweat shines across his chest. I go to stand again, but he backhands me, and I fall to my knees. Blood rushes into my mouth, and I spit it out, glaring up at him from this humiliating position. My head spins, but I can’t lose consciousness. I’ll die before I have a man like him touch me.