His arm is so long and it’s wrapped so tightly around my waist that his fingertips skim my hip all the way on the other side. I moan again into his mouth, this time from pain instead of pleasure. His fingertips dig into the fresh burn on my hip and instead of bringing me a sense of relief like it normally does, I feel a shiver of apprehension run through me, like someone dumped a bucket of ice water all over my body. Not only are we in a very public location and my place of employment, if I allow myself to continue down this path, he’ll feel my scars…he’ll see my scars. No one is allowed to see the damage I inflict on myself. It’s why I wouldn’t allow DJ to remove my underwear the other night, no matter how much he protested. He’ll never be able to adhere to my demands a second time, so sex with this man cannot happen. He’ll question me and he’ll argue and push until there’s nothing left for me to do but show him what I’ve truly become.
I smack my hands against his hard chest, pushing with every ounce of strength I have in my arms. He tears his mouth away from mine as I stumble backwards, pressing my fingers to my swollen lips.
“Phina,” he whispers, moving towards me.
I hold my palm up in front of him and take a few steps back, putting some more distance between us.
“Don’t ever do that again,” I threaten as I slow my breathing and lift my chin in show of defiance that I don’t feel.
I feel like a puppy that’s been kicked; like I’m standing outside of my body, watching myself curl up into a ball waiting for another blow. I hate feeling so weak. I hate that this man makes me ashamed of who I am and what I’ve become. He was one of the catalysts that set me on this path to destruction, pushing me deeper into my addiction after what happened between us in high school, but I will never allow him to see how much his actions affected me. I will not give him that power.
“We had our fun, and now it’s over. If you’re expecting tit for tat and think you deserve an orgasm because you went home with blue balls the other night, that’s not my problem. Go home and jerk off,” I tell him angrily as I turn and walk away.
Once again, he grabs onto my arm and pulls me back against him.
“Oh, don’t even try to pull that bullshit with me now,” he mutters lowly as he stares down at my lips. “You want me. It may not be as obvious as my cock pressing into your stomach right now, but it’s there. If I slid my hand inside those scrubs, I’ll find your pussy wet and ready for me. Nice try, Fireball.”
I scoff at his words and feign indignation, even though hearing him speak like that intensifies the throbbing between my legs. I push away from him again, crossing my arms in front of me to stop myself from grabbing onto him and refusing to let go until he makes good on his threat and slides his fingers inside me.
“Fine, have it your way,” he chuckles. “We’ll pretend like you don’t want me and I’ll pretend like you going to fucking Dax about the note someone left you on your porch instead of me doesn’t make me want to punch my fist through the wall.”
I roll my eyes at the idea of him doing something so childish. “In case you forgot, Dax is a detective. Obviously, I would take something like this to him instead of you. It doesn’t concern you, anyway.”
Dax and I will most definitely be having a few words about him letting the cat out of the bag to DJ. And to think, I actually let him make me believe he was afraid of DJ kicking his ass. Stupid man and his stupid smirk turning me into an idiot.
“The fuck it doesn’t!” he argues loudly, glancing around us quickly before lowering his voice. “You’re not the only one who got a strange note about our night together.”
My mouth drops open in shock and fear ripples through me. It was stupid of me to go to Dax when I knew damn well who was most likely responsible for that fucking note. There is only one person in my life that would stoop to something so disgusting and pathetic. The fact that he’s been behind bars for the last fifteen years doesn’t even matter. He had plenty of loser friends back then, lowlife scum I’m sure he’s kept in contact with and would still jump to do his bidding. All these years of declining his collect calls and putting his letters right into the shredder without opening them or responding must have finally pushed him over the edge. Even from prison, he’s still trying to tell me I’m worthless and don’t deserve anything good in my life. Staring up at DJ now, knowing that his association with me put him on that man’s radar, makes me feel sick.
The past doesn’t matter. Getting revenge doesn’t matter. Nothing matters but putting a stop to this before it escalates and DJ is caught in the crossfire.