Page 110 of Sugar

“Madeline.” That one word made it clear it wasn’t about the drink.

I lifted a shoulder and told the truth. “I don’t buy much.”

“Bullshit. You went to that juice bar with Greer three times in the last week alone.”

I reared back. “How did you know that?”

Not that it bothered me. I usually blabbed every inane detail of my life to him because I was born to yap. I wasn’t even alarmed by the possible stalking because I was also apparently born messed up in the head.

I was more horrified by the fact I’d been oblivious to it.

“Greer tags you on Instagram,” he shared, something that made way more sense than him somehow following me. “Same with your weekly French toast and mimosa outings.”

So no physical stalking.

Just the cyber kind.

Greer really needs to stop documenting my predictability.

“I thought you didn’t have social media,” I pointed out.

“I don’t. I can still see your profile.”

I didn’t have to ask why he was looking at an app he didn’t even have an account for.

Thorough.

“I thought you signed up for the auction for the money.” He took a step closer. “Then I thought you weren’t spending it because you felt guilty. But you don’t need it. Do you?”

Oh shit, he’s mad. He told me about attending Coastal because they offered the best scholarship. About growing up in a crappy neighborhood. He assumed my participation was about financial desperation and not a very different kind.

Now he feels duped, and he’s mad.

“I told you that I didn’t,” I reminded him. “I tried to give your card back. I said you didn’t have to buy me anything. And I’ll pay you back if you?—”

“The fuck you will.” He took another step. “I want to know why you auctioned yourself off when it was never about the money.”

Oh no.

I’d almost rather he was pissed.

I gave a half-assed shrug and an even half-assier answer. “It seemed interesting.”

Another step. “Why?”

“It just did.”

And another. “Tell me.”

Despite his firm tone that usually made me obey, I kept my lips pressed together.

He closed the last bit of distance between us, but it wasn’t enough. His hand spanned my side, and he backed me against the wall. “Want to hear my theory?”

I didn’t.

But only because I had no doubt it was correct.

“See, Madeline, I was sitting down in my office, looking for any distraction to stop myself from storming up the stairs and waking you by slamming into your tight little pussy.” The cruel smirk that curved his mouth proved again how well he read me. “At the time, I was thinking about how I needed to give you time. Take things slow. How important it was that I didn’t scare you off. But you aren’t scared.” He lifted his hand from my waist to curve around my throat before he used his thumb to force my face up. “Are you?”

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