Page 41 of XOXO, Daddy
“Adam, you’re scaring me,” I whispered, my lower lip quivering as it all hit me.
“Jesus, Willow, I’m sorry,” he said, immediately releasing me, stepping back, running what looked to be a shaky hand through his thick hair. “I’m sorry,” he repeated. “I wasn’t trying to scare you. But the thought of Ragnar—”
“It wasn’t Ragnar, Adam. It was Nathan,” I quickly explained.
“Nathan, who is — Wait, that guy from Obsidian? The one who was talking to you in the little’s room?” His fingers clenchedinto fists, but he was far less angry than he had been at the thought of Ragnar touching me.
“Yes, that’s him.”
“And what happened?”
“Adam, I don’t really think we need to get into this.”
“What. Happened?” He seethed, his arms crossing once more.
“He struck up a conversation with me, and at first it was fine. He was nice. It was loud and crowded, so we went somewhere quieter. He had a coloring book with him and offered to let me color.” I stopped short at the sound of his growl, but he did not try to speak. “He told me not to color outside the lines—”
“Why not?”
“I don’t know. But he did. And I just got too excited, and I colored outside the lines, so he…” I trailed off, not wanting to admit to him what had happened.
“Don’t you dare stop there. What happened?” He muttered through clenched teeth.
I faltered, not wanting to admit the truth. With a snap of his fingers, he brought me back to attention, though my eyes still refused to meet his.
“Tell me, Willow. Now.”
“He punished me,” I barely breathed out in a whisper.
“Mother FUCKER!” The roared curse, mixed with the crashing sound of a fist meeting the wall, made me jump with shock and fear. Punch after punch rained down as he attacked the wall next to the door until there was a large hole where a pretty, neutral painted wall once stood.
I watched in stunned silence as Adam struggled to regain control. Hands fisted against the broken wall, his breaths came in heaving pants as he tried to regulate.
“Show me,” he muttered under his breath, so softly I couldn’t make out the words.
“I don’t think—”
“Now.” Even as his voice raised in anger, I knew it wasn’t directed at me. In all my years of knowing him, I had never known him to be a violent man. He was protective to a fault, but never violent with those he loved.
I immediately pushed away the glimmer of emotion that flickered with the thought of Adam loving me. That wasn’t what we had. Not then, and certainly not now. He turned to me as my fingers found the waistband of my leggings. Tugging them down carefully over my sore bottom, I turned away from him. At least I wouldn’t have to see his face when he saw the damage Nathan had done.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” he swore under his breath, though I had no trouble hearing him that time.
Quickly, I tugged my pants and panties back up.
“Don’t.” The word was sharp, but there was a tinge of something else beneath the thinly veiled anger. It took me a moment to identify it.
Guilt.
“Adam, I am okay.” Without a word, he was there at my side, gently guiding me to the bed.
“This is hard for me, Willow.”
“What is?”
“This. I don’t know where we are, or what you want from this now.”
“I don’t know that there is athisanymore, Adam.”
