Page 217 of Poison Aches

“Oh God.”

Tears start streaming down my cheeks unchecked now.

I remember it all.

The way Jackson sexually assaulted me… touching my body, gripping me...

“Oh God,” another horrible croak breaks free as pain clogs my throat and chest.

Last night… Jackson drugged me.

I knew those drinks tasted funny, but I ignored it, thinking it was just me and my overthinking.

After all, I’d just had an encounter with Emmett and the thing with my father and his family…

From his seat, Emmett watches me in silence, an impassive cold look on his face.

“Last night…” I whisper. “Jack?—”

“Don’t fucking say that disgusting name while you’re in my bed.” His words are firm, angry even, but when he looks at me, I don’t know what he sees on my face, but he sets his bush down and gives me his full attention.

“Are there blanks in your memory?” he asks gently, but there’s still a terseness in his deep voice.

I nod, not trusting my voice right now.

“What do you remember last?”

Images of Emmett and me flash in my head.

I remember his hands on me. His fingers trailing down my open back.

I remember him pressing the ghost of a kiss to the shell of my ear, then my lips.

I recall him telling me how "fucking delicious" I looked in my dress.

And then I remember the next words he said and the sharp, cold gleam that entered his eyes right before he walked away from me… that I should behave.

“I remember…” I fall silent as more images filter in my head.

There’s a huge bathroom. Then a huge shower stall.

I see Emmett piling my hair carefully atop my head and then tying it into a messy bun before he bathes me carefully in a warm shower.

Images of me clinging to Emmett flash in my head.

I see myself hugging him so tight, with a loony smile on my face.

My head was pressed right over his firm, hot, muscular chest and I begged him to let me count along with him.

As those images flash in my head, I feel my cheeks warming up hotter than the sun on my back.

I remember pulling Emmett to me, and then begging him to…

“Oh no!” I gasp, then quickly clamp a palm over my mouth.

Shame slams into me.

Did I beg this man whom I promised myself never to think of again, to let go of as a possibility… did I beg him to….

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