Dirty English

I struggled and his grip tightened, the pressure against my mouth hard enough against my teeth that I tasted the copper.

He laughed, a jagged, breathless sound. “And don’t act so surprised to see me. After all, you sent your mom and her boyfriend to blackmail my father. Did you really think I was going to let that ride?” His nose flared, anger sparking in his gaze as he put his nose next to mine.

“You really should have called me back and talked to me. We might have been able to figure this whole thing out, but you didn’t, and now I have to talk to you in person.”

God help me, I couldn’t breathe. Not really. Small amounts of air sucked in and then rushed out of my nostrils. Dark spots danced in front of my eyes, and I clawed at his hands, my nails digging in to get some muscle, but he laughed and elbowed me in the ribs.

Whoosh.

The room spiraled.

He was going to kill me. Here in my bed. He was going to finish what he’d started two years ago.

My lungs burned, ready to explode.

My body ached for air. God, help me. Someone, please.

I whimpered and kicked up at him, trying to find purchase on his shoulders, his legs, anywhere. That didn’t work, so I tried to buck him off me, my hips still able to move.

He tsked and maneuvered me up on the bed and straddled my chest with his legs. “I’m going to take my hand off your mouth so you can breathe, but if you scream, I will knife you right here, do you understand?”

I nodded, fading fast, adrenaline the only thing keeping me awake.

He eased his hand back a millimeter at a time until finally I had more air.

I opened my mouth and gulped in fresh oxygen, filling my lungs.

Yes, air, air, air!

He shoved my chin up to close my mouth and slapped a piece of duct tape over my mouth as his other hand imprisoned my wrists.

I grunted, not able to move. My eyes watered. Death loomed.

Don’t give up! the girl inside me yelled. You did once. Never again.

I flailed around, using my elbows like Declan had taught me to knock him in the nose. He screamed in pain and pounced on me harder, using his knee to pin me in place on the bed. He fished around in his pocket and pulled out a zip tie and tied my wrists together. Sweat dripped from his face into my eye, and I cringed.

I sucked air in through my nose, imagining the picture I made, my wrists bound, a piece of duct tape across my face as I lay crosswise on my bed. Memories from another bed flew at me, things I didn’t want to remember.

Straightening his shoulders and rolling his neck, he paced around my room.

He wiped a shaky hand across his mouth. “I had plans, Elizabeth. Hell, I had plans for the good life and then you start calling Father and his assistant, telling them lies about us. You’re a little slut and you want to backtrack and tell everyone that I raped you.” He barked out a laugh. It was weird and off.

His eyes flared wide, the bloodshot veins like roadmaps. Was he high?

He crossed his arms. “Father called me all high and mighty and asked me all these crazy questions about you. He was already pissed at me for getting kicked out of school, you know, and his words to me were to ‘take care of it.’ Now, maybe that meant paying you off, but you see, I really think he meant for me to do whatever necessary to make sure your little story never reaches the papers or the police.”

No! I shook my head from side to side rapidly. My eyes beseeched him . Please. Mama and Karl had given up, I wanted to scream at him . It was over. Over!

He licked his lips, hungry eyes raking over me. “You know, I remember that night at the hotel. Do you?” He ran his eyes over the scars on my wrist. “I heard about this. I really did a number on you, didn’t I?” He lifted his eyes to mine. “That’s some powerful shit, when you can make someone try to off themselves.”

I froze.

His eyes clouded in a faraway look as if chasing a memory. “You drank that vodka like water, and when I put that Molly to your lips, you lapped it up like a baby kitten looking for a milk coma.” He sat down on my bed, his fingers idly toying with Granny’s quilt. “I had to have you, I guess. You’d been telling me no for weeks and you’re the type of girl who wants too much, and I was sick of kissing your ass. I wanted you, and, in the end, I got you, didn’t I?”

He was going to kill me this time. He was on something. I knew it by the way spittle came out of his mouth.

I closed my eyes, fighting to keep the hysteria at bay.

Fighting to keep my imagination from running crazy.

I whimpered, an image of Declan in my head, his broad shoulders, his warm gray eyes, his sensual mouth that I’d never taste again. I pictured the future, us having babies—twins—me working on my jewelry while he made a living at the gym, going to the UFC. Dax popping in for dinner … laughter.

Simple and easy.

Just love. True love. Epic kind of love.

Colby speared me with his gaze, bringing me back. “Truth is, things got kinda out of control prom night. I didn’t mean to hurt you—or hit you—but that’s what happens in the heat of the moment. You were so helpless—I liked it. You get that?” He squeezed my cheeks together, his hands rough. His tongue snaked out of his mouth as he licked his lips. “You were good, Elizabeth. I liked hurting you.”

I closed my eyes.

“Don’t do that!” he barked. “I still have things to say to you.”

My eyes flew open. He kneeled onto the bed, eyes protruding with anger. “I came down here to get rid of you, but first, all this talk about prom …” He laughed bitterly. “Well, it’s got me excited, babe.” He jerked my hands up and pressed them against his crotch. “See? My dick is hard.”