Page 29 of Crushing Clover

Eventually, he stopped, but my thoughts were too fuzzy to realize it had ended.

He grabbed a handful of my aching, overheated flesh. His words had trouble penetrating the cotton my head felt stuffed with.

I stared at a piece of lint on the back of the couch.

The door clicked. I let myself slide sideways until I was lying on the couch, vaguely aware he’d forgotten to reattach the ankle cuff. Fingers trembling, I pulled the sodden, wadded lace out of my mouth, too exhausted to be grossed out.

I could probably escape right now.

I hadn’t heard him lock the door.

Where could I go?

I supposed I could go anywhere—lose myself. Hitchhike to a place I didn’t recognize the name of and start another life there. But how safe would I be in my new life and for how long? I didn’t have a cent.

Breathless, I lay there feeling sorry for myself. What the hell had I gotten myself into?

Wasn’t there a rule that a rich man who could afford to own a girl really just wanted someone he could talk to and shower with gifts? Maybe it depended on whether the guy had wanted the girl in the first place.

The door clicked open again, and I cringed, bracing for whatever came next—if by bracing, I meant lying absolutely still on the couch and playing dead.

When the person didn’t say anything, I got nervous and turned my head. Rush stood there. His gaze was unreadable.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” I replied.

“I hear you pissed off Saint.”

I nodded. There was no point in telling him my side of things.

“Let me guess. Spring came in and introduced herself and got sketched out about the ankle cuff?”

I didn’t bother answering.

“So, you were screwed either way. If you hadn’t broken the no-talking rule, she might have freaked out.”

I shrugged, and he grimaced.

“I’ll admit, we didn’t really think this through, but we didn’t have time to figure out what to do with you tonight.”

I sat up and sucked in a breath, then managed to settle on one hip so that it didn’t hurt so much.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m a bit sore,” I admitted reluctantly.

“I can see that.”

“I’m not sure how to get him to stop hating me.”

I could see in his face that he didn’t know either. “Did he give you a safeword, at least?”

I snorted.

“Is that how you talk to me, girl?”

I set my jaw and tried it again. “No, sir. He didn’t give me a safeword.”

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