Page 51 of Stolen Vows
The warmth between our flesh soothes me.I don’t want to let her go, but I need to know what her father said to her to make her look so broken.I need to know why she called his name in her dream.
The moment I lift my hands from her, she rolls out of my lap, snatches the top blanket off the bed, stumbles to her feet, and wraps the blanket around herself before turning to face me.
“What happened?”
The deep, guttural quality of her voice sounds painful, but is proof I didn’t damage her vocal cords.
When her question registers, I scowl.
“Exactly my question,” I snarl.
She closes her eyes and rubs her temple.
“Was I hitting you?”she asks.
I grit my teeth and give her the benefit of the doubt even though anger spears through me.
“Yes,” I growl.
She drops her hand and gives me a hard look.
“Unprovoked or because you touched me?”she asks.
“I touched you,” I admit.
A myriad of emotions parade across her features before she sighs and slumps in defeat.
“I’m sorry.”
I wait for her words to make sense.She shouldn’t be the one apologizing.I should.
“I should’ve warned you, but usually his footsteps wake me, so I don’t lash out.”
My gut tightens.
“Who?Your father?”
I know the answer, but my mouth demands an answer.
She shrugs.
“There’s no one else in my life, so…”
Half of me wants to pull her into my arms and gently coax the story from her.A quarter wants to drop on my knees and apologize.An eighth demands I kiss her worries away.The remaining sliver wars with too many emotions to name.
But the anger is the loudest section and the easiest to use with her nonchalant answer, so I scoff and cross my arms over my chest.My cock pulses in my sweatpants, and I use the sexual frustration as fuel.
“I watched the footage from your hotel room, and you know what I saw?A spoiled little princess not getting her way,” I snarl.
Deep down, I don’t mean any of the words, but I can’t stop myself from saying them.
She opens her mouth.Closes it.Opens it again.With each failed attempt to speak, her fury visibly grows.The freckles on her cheeks disappear under her angry flush, and if she were in a cartoon, she’d have steam coming out of her ears.
“You.Are.An.Asshole.”She punctuates each word as though speaking to an imbecile.“I’m done talking to you.”
She turns on her heel and stomps toward the hallway.I lunge off the bed and yank her off her feet.She screams and flails, but the blanket slips down her torso, baring her breasts, and tangles around her legs.I spin her around and pin her against the wall.Her hard nipples create tempting points against my stomach as I capture her wrists and hold them above her head.
In this position, I tower over her like a giant.Our size difference strikes me anew.I could break her so easily.In fact, I almost did mere moments ago.
