Cruel Summer

CHAPTER FOUR: WINTER

“Don’tyoulookpretty.”

My blood chills the second I step into my room and hear his voice. It feels as if my heart stops for a moment before picking back up tenfold.

I push my door closed behind me, keeping my gaze on the ground as I try to give myself time to prepare for whatever shit storm is about to occur. The door gives a long creak before snapping shut. The sound echoes in my ears. The room is cold and it chills my legs as I try to get the nerve to face the man in my room.

“Scared, my little mouse?” I can hear the amusement in his tone, and when I look up, finding mirth in his eyes, I know he’s up to no good.

Has he ever done any good anyway?

Maximo’s lips tilt up into a grin that promises nothing but trouble. His hands are spread out to the side as he casually leans back on my bed. His ankles are crossed out in front of him and the sleeves of his white dress shirt are pushed up to reveal lithe but muscular forearms.

Dread, and an emotion I didn’t want to acknowledge, make my stomach feel funny.

Maximo’s lips move into a real smile now and it’s scarier than any smirk he could ever wear.

He lifts a finger, beckoning me forward.

And as if by magic, my feet move on their own accord, pulling me closer to him.

What in the hell am I doing?

I should be running in the opposite direction, not walking right up to the man. But I’m not stupid, that emotion that was fighting the dread in my stomach was anticipation. Because as much as it kills me to admit it, I no longer hate everything that Maximo Costa does to me.

Maybe that makes me sick.

Or maybe it's just Stockholm syndrome.

But when I stop a foot away from him, fear isn’t the overwhelming feeling that I have.

Lust is.

Maximo doesn’t say anything for a long moment, just allowing his eyes to drift over me. From my face to my exposed legs. My legs tremble.

“Sit down,” he says, breaking the silence.

I swallow, moving to sit on the bed next to him. Before I can sit, his fingers wrap around my wrist, halting me. His grip tightens as I look at him, his eyes already on me.

“Not there,” he says.

I frown, unsure of where in the hell else he wants me to sit. The floor?

I look down at the wooden floorboards.

“Not there either,” he says before suddenly he’s pulling me to him. I go stumbling, right into his lap.

My breath rushes out of me as my legs straddle his waist, my dress rising up my legs. The soft silk only adds to the intensity of emotions moving through me.

One of Maximo’s hands wraps around my thigh, gripping tightly and keeping me in place. His other hand squeezes my ass, pushing me forward.

My core presses against the bulge tenting his pants. My skin grows hot and tingles flood my body.

I squeeze my eyes closed, a part of me still wanting to fight the not so bad feelings that are moving through me.

Maximo’s fingers drift up my thigh, leaving sparks in their wake. “Look at me.”

I don’t dare open my eyes.