He jerks his chin toward their room. “Put it on.”
I start to turn toward the bathroom, but he stops me. “Where you going, little girl?”
“To change?”
“Here,” he orders, hooking his thumb toward the bedroom.
“I’m not going to change in front of you,” I say, my skin prickling with heat.
He smirks. “Seen it all before, little girl. Many, many,manytimes.”
“Ugh, you’re such a manwhore,” I say, stepping past him. He catches my arm, swings me around into their bedroom, and closes the door behind us.
Leaning against the door, he crosses his arms and looks down at me. “Strip for me, little girl. Or if you’d rather, I can strip you.”
I glare at him, anger and defiance rising in me. If he wants to see me, fine. It’s not like he hasn’t seen something a lot more intimate than me changing clothes.
I open the towel and let it drop to my feet, standing in front of Maddox completely bare, refusing to cover myself with my arms like I did in the gym.
“Happy?” I taunt, spreading my arms wide.
He smirks. “Getting there. Now show me what you were doing in my shower, little girl.”
“Stop calling me that, and I might,” I say, not sure where the bravery is coming from. Maybe it’s just that I know he’s seeing me, all of me. There’s nothing more I can take off.
Or maybe it’s this new, exhilarating power that I feel rolling through me like thunder when I see the heat in his gaze, the desire. He might play all tough and indifferent, like he’s done it a million times, but hewantsme. There’s something addicting in that knowledge, in the way his eyes linger on my breasts, the bulge I can see growing in his jeans.
“Show me,” he says, his voice so commanding, so dominant, that a tremor goes through me. I watch him watch me as I run my fingertips up my bare thigh. His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, but he doesn’t move.
“Then call me by my name,” I say, feeling brave and reckless and high with power.
“Keep going, little mama,” he says, his breath coming a little faster as I trace my middle finger along the edged of my newly shaven skin.
“Like this?” I ask. With my other hand, I reach for my breast, cupping it gently, then squeezing a little. When he doesn’t respond, I tug on my nipple with two fingers. “You like that?”
Maddox gulps again, not even blinking as he watches me run my hand over my hip, the curve of my waist, my ribs, to my other breast.
I’m skating on some edge I can’t see, that I’m feeling out as I go, and I know one misstep will plunge me into humiliation or even danger. On the other side of that line is the thrilling sense of this careening power I’ve just discovered, though—one I want to explore. Terror and exhilaration churn like storm clouds inside me. I know that at any moment he could snap, could grab me and force me to do whatever he wants.
But maybe that’s the thrill. That I’m playing with fire. The danger is what’s making me so hot, so bold. I’m shaking with fear, and yet, I don’t want to stop. I want to push. I want to see that animal inside him again. And I want to feel this new power, to revel in it, after so many years of being powerless.
I squeeze my breasts together and then move them apart, thumbing my stiff nipples. “Do you know my name, Maddox?” I tease.
“Yes, I know your fucking name,” he grits out.
I lift my breasts, leaning down and keeping my eyes on his. Slowly, I flick out my tongue, tracing the end of it along the pink rosebud of my nipple.
“You fucking tease,” he growls, prowling forward and grabbing me by both arms. We stare at each other, both of us breathing fast. Fear spikes inside me, but some part of me wants this, too. Some part of me knew what would happen, and I pushed because I wanted it. I wanted him to show me he wants me, but more than that, I wanted him to take what he wants. To give me what I want, what he gives to all those other girls. I wanted him to stop seeing me as a little girl and let me in, to treat me like the girls in his gang.
I don’t want to be alone anymore.
I want to be in his Murder.
Just then, the door swings open. Lennox freezes, something unreadable flickering through his gaze before it rakes over me, taking in every inch of my naked body. Suddenly, I’m thrust back into my real body, and humiliation rushes over me, replacing the surge of power. I snatch up the clothes, trying to cover myself with my other hand as I do.
“What the fuck,” Lennox snaps, striding in and slamming the door behind him. He shoves Maddox, who stumbles against the dresser.
The dresser where he keeps his gun. Adrenaline courses through me, and I yank the shirt over my head. “Nothing happened,” I rush to explain. “I was just changing and—”