Callie’s heart pumped so hard in her chest that she was certain the bed shook beneath her.
From one blink to the next, his uncertainty disappeared and calculation returned. He pressed a hand into the bed beside her head, leaned in, and said, “You think to manipulate me, little girl?” His hand clamped her mound, startling her. “I’m the one who will manipulate you.”
Even terror-drenched, her mind worked out the double entendre. The bile entered her mouth but had nowhere to go.
Whatever. It. Takes.
Fighting against twenty-plus years of conditioned behavior, she kept her promise to her sister. She set free the inner muscles forcing her bladder to behave.
The warm rush of liquid against her panties was both a relief and a humiliation. When the sensation registered against her attacker’s palm and his face contorted in disgust, another emotion surfaced.
Victory.
Instead of trumpets and fireworks heralding her achievement, she heard the sweet sound of Sam’s curses and deranged screams barreling up the basement steps.
Close enough.