I shot up from the chair, and her eyes widened just a fraction. If she had any room to move, I was certain she would have taken another step back when I’d gotten closer. “You said you didn’t want me to hate you anymore, right?”
Her eyes lingered a little too long on my mouth before she darted her gaze away, and that was the wrong thing to do, because something was exploding inside of me. Want. I wanted her. I wanted her snarky little mouth on mine. I wanted to devour her and show her just how much I didn’t hate her.
“This is you not hating me?” Her warm breath hit my face, and a rough swallow went down my throat. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you’re trying to intimidate me into telling you shit that is none of your business. That seems a lot like a hateful power play, doesn’t it?”
I said nothing. Instead, I shot her a grin as I felt her nipples harden on my chest. Tread lightly, Eric.
“I think you like where I’m standing. I think you like it a lot.”
Now it was her turn to swallow. Her cheeks went back to that rosy color that told me all I needed to know.
“Why are you afraid of your father, Maddie?”
“You can’t intimidate me, Eric.”
I smiled at her, inching my knee in between hers. Madeline tilted her head up, and our mouths were so close to touching I instantly got hard. There was no denying it now. Hate or not, I wanted her. I wanted her bad.
“I can, Madeline. Or…” My grin faded as I felt the desire surging through my veins. “I can just work it out of you.”
Her blue eyes became hooded, her chest rubbing against mine with heavy breaths. Was I really going there with her? Right now?
“And if I tell you to stop?”
I paused, my hands holding onto her waist gently. Just enough to let her know that I wasn’t going to overstep like her mother’s boyfriends that had no fucking manners. “Then I’ll stop. But just know…your body tells me a different story.” I pushed up against her, and a breathless
moan escaped her. Fuck. I needed to back off. If I didn’t, I’d kiss her. I'd kiss her so fucking hard and fast, just like at the frat party, and if she told me to stop, I might have to throw myself out the window to do so.
“Quick,” I whispered along her ear, dragging my mouth away from hers. “Better make me hate you before I do something we'll both regret in the morning.”
“Shh,” she snapped, placing a hand on my beating chest.
I paused, pulling back from her just slightly. She was glaring at her window. I felt the change in the mood almost instantaneously. Her eyes widened, her hand pushing at my chest harder. She was over to her glass before I even had a chance to get my dick soft again.
“Oh no.” The fear in her voice was back. It was the fear I’d heard the other night when that fucker was at her house. I strode over to her, ready to feel that red-hot surge of anger whoosh through my body, but it wasn’t who I thought it was.
“Who is that?” I asked, glancing at Madeline’s pale face. She looked sick. The rosy blush on her cheeks was completely washed out. Please tell me it wasn’t another fucking pervert.
The man was tall with long, lean legs and a muscular upper body. You could tell he spent hours in the gym, perfecting his physique. He had light-brown hair with a chiseled jaw and a large hand clamped down on Madeline’s mother’s arm like he was ready to snap it off. Wait. I recognized him.
“Madeline?” I repeated. She gave me one glance, and it rocked me to my fucking core. “That’s your father, isn’t it?”
Her tone cut right through me. “Yes.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Madeline
My hand was fastened down on Eric’s so hard I thought I might bruise him. He asked what was going on as I pulled him over to my bedroom light, flicking it off, and again as I threw us both into my dark closet.
I hated the dark.
But I hated my dad more.
Fear was lying in my stomach like a bundle of sticks that were ready to be lit on fire, my father’s voice being the gasoline and my mother’s scream being the match. I knew how this was going to go. From the second I saw his hand on her arm, dragging her to the front door, I knew.
“Madeline,” Eric repeated for the third time—or maybe it was the thirtieth, I wasn’t sure. I might’ve spaced out by the pleading in his voice. “Tell me what’s going on right now, and why the fuck we’re crammed in your closet with you on my lap.”
I glanced down, which was stupid because it was so dark I couldn’t see anything. Was I sitting on him?