Page 16 of Corrupt Me

My friends burst through my door, shooting off rapid-fire questions. I soak in their care and say, “I’m fine, guys, but I need to get back to this.” I gesture to my laptop with my thumb, and they reluctantly oblige.

It doesn’t take long before Eric gets on the phone with someone.

“I will bring her to you, but she’s mine.”

I can hear Felix’s voice, and each word accelerates my pulse. “You’re in no position to negotiate,” he says.

“But I am. I’ll make her fall in love with me, and she’ll give you what you want.”

Oh, you stupid boy. I’d never be yours, and second, he’s using you. That’s what Felix does best. Right then, my door opens. I know it’s Hunter because he’s the only one who doesn’t knock.

“Down in the basement. Now.”

I roll my ergonomic chair toward him. “And if I don’t?”

“Don’t challenge me. Not right now, Bailey.” I love it when he says my name in that deep, low tone, like he’s on the edge. It would only be fair because he does the same to me. Nothing has helped—being friendly with him, ignoring him, reacting to his taunts, even provoking him back. We have nothing but these challenges, this maddening push and pull.

I stand up slowly. Tension stretches between us, thickening the air until it’s hard to breathe.

He’s dangerous, but nothing in me warns me away from him. No, I am the moth. He’s the flame. I am bound to burn because I am tempted to feel that appealing yet lethal heat.

Tonight made me realize something: my life has been anything but normal. I haven’t been kissed, haven’t even been touched. I am still a virgin. Even though there were some cute boys in high school, they never quite piqued my interest, and after seeing what Kaden and Abi went through during their initiations, I didn’t want to risk it. I must be repressed. Surely, my body wants to know how it would feel to have sex, but why does it have to be him? While my vibrator does a fantastic job at making me come, I am curious about human touch.

I could continue lying, or I could find a solution. Just once, I want something for myself—something real.

When I reach him, resolve sharpens his features. “I won’t go easy on you anymore.”

“Sure.”

Ever since he crashed into my life, he coaxed out a part of me I’d kept hidden. I am bolder, more fearless. Reckless. He’s made me reckless.

When the door to the gym closes behind me, he doesn’t give me time to prepare myself. He comes at me so fast that I land on my back with a thud.

“Up. Show me I didn’t waste my time with you completely.” He stands above me in a warrior stance, brows drawn together, lips flattened into a tight line.

That look alone pushes me to stand up. Arms raised, I shift from foot to foot when suddenly, he smashes his fist into my stomach, making me bend over. A whoosh of air escapes my mouth. He was actually going easy on me.

Once I straighten, conflict brews in those steely grays, but this is what we both need—me to get better at fighting, him to harden himself for what’s necessary. With that knowledge comes liberation.

“Is that all you’ve got?” I challenge, and he smiles appreciatively before he drills into me.

Every inch of my body screams abuse, but I don’t tell him to stop even though I’m wobbly on my feet. It’s like he’s made of titanium, not flesh. His endurance is astounding—or maybe I’m just not a challenge—because every time I manage to get up, I’m flat on my back again within seconds.

He never loses his patience with me. While brutal, he always tells me how to do better, to find an opening and attack him. He’s a great teacher, but it’s not my fault I can barely focus when he looks like that.

I hit his face by some miracle, taking us both by surprise. My first instinct is to cup his cheeks. He stiffens for a second, and then he chuckles. “Kitten, you landed a punch. I’ll survive it.”

My chest soaks up those deep, hoarse sounds. For a moment, we’re suspended above the ground. What a surreal experience.

But then his jaw sets in a hard line, intent on stomping out whatever develops between us. “Again.”

I tip my chin in a stiff nod. I don’t know why it bothers me. Hunter and I don’t have sweet moments. That must have been an exception. I have never been anything other than a responsibility. And he wants me to be able not only to defend myself but to fight back.

“Fists up.” “Come at me.” “Again.” “We’re not done, Bailey.”

He issues orders like it’s the easiest thing in the world for me to follow, even when my muscles scream from exhaustion.

Sweat gathers on my forehead, and I try to wipe it with the back of my hand. He kicks me behind my knees, and I lose my footing, falling flat on my face. I close my eyes. Maybe he’ll let me be.

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