“I’m just wondering why me.”
“Because I have leverage.” His hand moves up my back and I release another one of those absolutely pathetic whimpers. “Because you’re clever and bold.” His fingers lace through my hair and pull. I groan in surprise and pain as the sharp tug sends a jolt of clarity down my spine: this man can tear me to pieces. “And because I want to own you, dominate you, fuck you, and leave you moaning, shaking, and pleading for more. This won’t work if everything between us is fake, but looking at you now, your heart racing, your skin flushed, your lips parted, I think there’s a part of you that wants all of that too. I think you’re scared, yes, but you also want me to fuck you into mindless oblivion, and that’s all you can think about, isn’t it? That’s right, good girl. Part those lips for me.”
God, what the hell is wrong with this man? What the hell is wrong with me?
Because he’s right, he’s absolutely right, I’m ripped down the middle and my halves are at war: one side wants to run the heck away and the other wants to strip off my leggings and stay right here in this man’s lap forever. One side despises him, the other wants to get destroyed by him. Two Gracies existing in the same body, and I don’t know which one I am or which one I’ll be, but I do know which one I need if I’m going to survive.
I need the Gracie that used to run away from Momma’s house to sleep on Riley’s floor just to survive another night of drunk and angry The Fist. I need the Gracie that slapped Jimmy-Jay when he pulled down her pants at recess in sixth grade and made his nose bleed. I need the Gracie that cried herself to sleep but never, ever gave up, especially when things looked bleakest.
That’s the version of myself I need to be.
So I lean into his fist. I let him pull my hair. I let his cock stiffen against my ass, proof that he’s not bullshitting me, that even if he’s keeping things back and not telling me the full truth, he’s not lying when he says he wants to drag me down into sweet blissful destruction.
I put both my hands on his chest and I can feel his heart racing beneath the thick slab of muscle. I bite my lip and nod once, tugging against his grip on my hair, sucking in a sharp breath at the pain.
“You want to know the truth about me?” I ask him quietly, and he nods. “There’s only one thing I give a damn about, and that’s my cousin. I’ll do whatever I need to do to survive this, and if that means kissing you and liking it, then I guess that’s a sacrifice I’ll have to make.”
He crushes his lips against mine. I pull in a breath through my nose as his lips dominate my own, his kiss like an invasion, like a feral animal, his taste flooding me with whiskey and wood smoke and copper, and I kiss him back like my life depends on it, because it does, and because it feels so fucking good to be touched like this, to be kissed like I’m desirable, like I’m the center of his world. I move my hips, grinding my ass against his cock, not thinking, only acting like that wild and free Gracie that’s never really existed before but might exist now, and I smile at the soft grunt of pleasure he gives me in return.
His fist tightens as he bites my lip and breaks off the kiss, and I want him to keep going, I’m so damn lost in this.
“That’s a good girl,” he whispers softly, kissing my neck, before he releases my hair and pushes me away.
I stumble to my feet, staring at him in confusion. He’s smiling, breathing hard, and his eyes are like knives aimed at my throat.
“Go get some sleep before you do something you’ll regret,” he says and picks up his glass in a white-knuckled grip. “In the morning, I’ll ask what you want, and if you say the right thing then I’ll tell you what the job is.”
“And if I say the wrong thing?”
“There are a lot of dead girls in Los Angeles. One more won’t matter.” He looks away toward the window and the lights of the city, and I turn around and get the hell out of there.
I don’t look back. My lips are numb and bitten. My body tingles with the kind of unbridled want and ache I’ve never felt before and never imagined I’d ever experience, and as I close the door to my room and lock the handle, I don’t know if I was acting or if I simply let myself really feel for the first time in a very long time.