Page 148 of Broken by my Bully
I keep my hands over my eyes because it makes it easier. “Iamangry at you,” I whisper. “I don’t know how to make this any clearer, Professor. Idon’twant to talk about my past, and I certainly don’t want you psychoanalyzing me every five seconds, either. So stop pushing. Stopprying.”
The weight of his hand disappears.
I make the mistake of looking, thinking he’s walked away. But he’sstanding right in front of me, and I get an eyeful of the bulge behind his towel.
It’s not just large. It’s obscene. It’s like he’s hiding a weapon under there.
My hand flies to my mouth. “Jesus Christ, I didn’t mean to?—“
“Yes, you did.” He shifts, and the towel slips lower on his hips, exposing more of the dark hair between his legs. “Just like you meant to wear only my t-shirt to bed. Just like you kept flashing your ass at me on the couch last night.”
My face burns. “I did not?—”
“You did. Right after you asked if I was offering to fuck you properly.” His voice drops. “Offer still stands, by the way.”
I force myself to look away. There’s a vague memory of me saying that, but I don’t remember shit about flashing him. Just that I backtracked super fast and told him I was kidding.
He didn’t seem amused then.
He definitely doesn’t seem amused now.
“You’ve been very…hospitable…but I have to go,” I force through trembling lips.
The silence crystalizes around us until he scoffs quietly.
Definitelynotamused.
“You have to go?” His voice is dangerously soft. “And where exactly are you going, Haven? Back to your car? Back to vacant parking lots and gas station bathrooms?”
“That’s none of your?—“
“Everything about you is my business now.” He steps closer, and I have to crane my neck to maintain eye contact. “You made it my business when you showed up at my door in the rain. When you let me feed you. Clothe you. When you asked if I wanted to fuck you.”
“I was drunk?—”
“In vino veritas.” His thumb brushes my bottom lip. “Wine reveals truth, girl. And your truth is that you want me to ruin you.”
I jerk my head away. “You’re wrong.”
“Am I?” He grabs my chin, forces me to look at him. “Then why can I smell how wet you are from here?”
I glare at him, silent, refusing to let his crass words drag me under. We stay like that for a long moment before he snatches his hand away and drops his gaze.
Did I just…win?
“Can you drive stick?” he mutters, adjusting his towel.
It’s his fault I’m so confused, throwing innuendos around like that.
“What?”
“Manual transmission,” he says through a sigh. “Can you handle it? Or do you need someone to teach you?”
“How long does a hangover last?” I ask, staring at the Land Rover. “Because I’m really struggling with the math here.”
Bastian slams the trunk closed and turns to frown at me.
“What’s the issue, Haven?” He holds out a pair of keys. “Get in and follow me back to college.” His brow furrows. “You’re not night-blind, are you?”
