Page 103 of Endgame
He bends so our faces are only a couple of inches apart.
I’d put my hands on top of his, try to push him away, but fuck. The possessiveness of his grip makes me needy.
“You’re upset because I fed you?” Everett’s eyes darken. He’s vibrating with anger that I don’t understand. Fighting with hisattraction as if it offends him. “Because I gave you a warm bed to sleep in? Is it below your standards, princess? Answer me.”
“Oh, please.” My derisive huff is embarrassingly fake. My need seeps into my every word. “Your house is incredible.” Not to mention he isn’t locking me up in a basement. “We both know that.”
“So? Why are you giving me that attitude?” His voice is lower. Like he actually cares.
How dare he accuse me of anything when he’s taken so much from me?
I’m humiliated, needy, and a little desperate. I hate him.
I don’t.
“What attitude?” I’m being a brat, giving him exactly what he deserves.
Hoping he’d like it.
“I’m being generous.” A jerk of his hips, and I’m pinned between the bookshelf and his hard cock. “I don’t even punish you as much as I’d planned on. Yet here you are, complaining. Breaking into rooms I have locked for a reason.”
His minty breath is hot on my skin. His cock throbs against my stomach.
Shame and something darker war inside me. I squeeze my eyes shut. Can’t take any more of this.
“Answer me.”
When I open them, I nearly choke on my emotions.
Why does this man, this person who used to be happy at one point in his life, hate me?
What’s so wrong with me that I’m this unlovable?
“I gave you a place to stay.” He seethes. “Away from those fuckers you call parents.”
“Fuck my parents.”
His thumb strokes my collar. His other hand slips to his jeans.
The remote is out.
“Ouch!” Jesus fuck, he zapped me. Meandhim, since his hand is still on my collar.
My eyes widen at the realization.
Despite the pain he must feel, Everett groans in pleasure.
Rocks his hips into me.
Forcing me to like it. I always do.
“Fuck them and fuck you.” I lean in to bite his lip. I want him to bleed, to hurt. I want to taste him. But he’s quicker, pulling away. “You gave me nothing. Just pain. Avoiding me, hiding these books from me? Promising me I’d commit to—a job, right? You’ve never told me what it was. We never actually talked about it. You lied, didn’t you?”
“No.”
“Stop lying.” I’m struggling to talk, my desire and desperation for him locking my throat. “If nothing else, give me this. Just let me work.”
As soon as the wordworkleaves my mouth, Everett’s delicious grinding, his low groans, they’re gone.
