Page 145 of Saving Her

The reality should flatten my libido.

It fucking doesn’t.

“Then maybe you should back off and take me at my word when I say I’ve got skills.”

I force out a laugh. “Those so-called skills won’t work on everyone.” Just pussy-whipped chumps like me. “This manipulative display doesn’t change anything. You still need to learn how to defend yourself.”

“Do I need to pull the trigger to prove I’m defending myself just fine?”

I chuckle in an attempt to release some of the blinding aggression. God, I want her. Crave her. Fuckingneedher. “Don’t kid yourself, shorty. I could get that gun out of your hand in seconds and have you flat on your back in a few more.”

“You don’t scare me.”

“I’m not trying to. But if you don’t lower that barrel I’ll prove my point.”Christ,how I want to prove that point. “So either shoot me or prepare for change, because I’m not backing down.” I flash her a feral smile. “I’m done playing nice.”

11

Penny

I let him touch me.

I stand frozen before him,continuingto let him touch me.

It’s a little daunting. Even somewhat intimidating. But I allow it because the physical contact brings an unfamiliar twist to my stomach. The sensation not loathsome in the slightest.

My pulse hammers, the beat erratic. And my breathing couldn’t settle if my life depended on it.

He does something to me, something I don’t understand. He has a way of wiping the past from my memory, temporarily covering my scars to transform me into an inexperienced teenager.

It isn’t safe to feel like this.

I clear my throat, dislodging the uncomfortable tickle, and lick the dryness from my lips. “Please let me go.” Sweat coats my palm, my grip on the gun slipping. “I need to use the bathroom.”

He doesn’t move. The only acknowledgement of my request is the flaring of his nostrils as his focus narrows on my mouth.

He’s a wall of muscle. A large, protective wall I itch to melt into.

“You’ve got ten minutes.” He steps back, giving me space that feels like abandonment. “Then you’re getting your ass back here to train.”

“Okay.” I nod, my heart rampantly beating in my throat. I’ll do anything,say anything, just to get more breathing room. “Ten minutes.”

I start for the hall, only to have him block my path with a flawless sidestep. “Are you forgetting something?” He holds out a hand, palm up. “Gun. Now.”

I return the weapon, my fingers accidentally dragging over his, the connection increasing the whirlpool of crazy sensations inside me. I literally scamper for the hall like a skittish dog, then continue to my room. I don’t stop my escape until I’ve locked myself in the adjoining bathroom to stare at myself in the mirror. Panting. Gasping.

I barely recognize the woman reflected back at me.

She’s frazzled. Mindless and wild.

For the first time since arriving in Portland, I acknowledge how much my appearance has changed. I was far prettier as a slave. All the visual benefits of the compulsory beauty treatments and hair-styling appointments have since faded. My lashes no longer hold the thick tint. The expensive makeup is no longer a daily requirement. And now I sort of wish they were, because I’m not looking my best for him.

For Luca.

It’s ridiculous and pathetic. Downright insane, too. Yet I feel unworthy at the sight of my reflection.

There’s no sense to my thoughts. None at all. There’s even less sense surrounding the dampness between my thighs, my arousal seeping into the crotch of my sweatpants.

I don’t like Lucathatway. I can’t.

---