Big mistake.
Levi advances into me like the bull from earlier, and I have no choice but to step over the easel and move back. My back hits the wall and a shiver draws down my core.
Why the hell do I keep getting myself into corners with him?
Levi slams his hand on the wall beside my head with his face mere inches from mine. My air supply comes in and out in short bursts. I can’t even breathe properly, afraid that this time my throbbing chest will surely become one with his.
“I told you what I want.” His voice drops to a dangerous, low range. “But what did you do?”
I fold my arms both to stop his chest from grazing mine and to control the hammering of my crazy heartbeat.
My gaze trails in the opposite direction, refusing to meet his eyes. If I do, I have a feeling they’d swallow me whole and never let go.
“I said.” His thumb and forefinger squeeze my chin, forcing me to face him. “What did you do?”
I gulp against the feel of his skin on mine. The calloused, long fingers bring back memories of that night.
Hit-and-run night.
For the first time in months, the memories aren’t gory and gruesome like in my nightmares.
No.
It’s entirely different.
These memories consume me like a case of drugs gone wrong — or maybe it’s gone right.
Goosebumps form on my skin at the memory of how good it felt to be touched by him.
How he elicited those desperate, foreign sensations in parts I thought didn’t exist.
This same devil made me feel like no one did before.
No. That was Ecstasy. Anyone could’ve touched me and it would’ve felt good.
Only now, I’m under no drug influence and I might as well be. Tingles draw down my spine, and I have no way to fight them off.
All I can do is show him that he can’t get through me.
“I told you I’m not meeting you. It’s not my fault you assumed otherwise.”
He raises one perfect, thick eyebrow. “Is that why you painted my car?”
“That was for humiliating me in front of the entire school.”
“That’s nothing compared to what I can do to you. Be a good little princess and I’ll let everything blow over.”
“And if I don’t?”
“Believe me, you don’t want
to go there.” Something menacing and sadistic shines in his gaze. It’s like he wants me to defy him so he can take sick pleasure in crushing me.
That’s his type, isn’t it? They’re so rich and entitled and bored. So they make it their job to step on anyone in their path to fend off their boredom.
If he steps on me just because he’s bored, I’ll make his life a living hell.
He releases my chin, and I hate how the place his fingers touched feel empty and tingling at the same time.