Page 52 of Endgame
“Tell me, princess.” His tone is derisive as he kicks my legs apart.
“Tell you what?”
He levels me with an intimidating glare through the mirror, staying silent for far too long.
“No. No,” I growl, because fuck him for unnerving me. For putting me through this. “You know what, on second thought, I’m not telling you shit.”
He grabs another towel, ruthless as he’s shoving it between my thighs, cleaning my arousal off me. That touch is even more impersonal than before. Completely mechanical. Entirely embarrassing.
“Does it sound like I’m asking?” In a split second, the soft fabric wraps around my neck, smelling of my orgasm.
Bringing me close to him.
Choking me.
At least his fingers are nowhere near my pussy anymore. He won’t know that I’m wet for this.
“No, it doesn’t.”
“Better.” He scoffs, dropping the towel. “And as to my question. Do you think that’ll help you? Being good? Do you hope that being obedient will soften me?”
Oh, crap, he’s onto me.
“I hope you drop dead.” A manic grin twists my face. He won’t see me suffering for as long as I can help it. “For whatyou’re doing to me. For what you did to that other woman you won’t talk to me about.”
Silence descends on us like a dark winter cloud.
Everett pulls his lips in.
Instead of talking, he moves. A new hairbrush is in his grip, and he sets out to untangle the knots in my hair.
I have more questions than before. Like, what the hell is this?
I say nothing. I refuse to acknowledge how careful he’s being. My roots don’t sting. There’s nothing painful about this.
For some reason, my hair turns him into less of a violent piece of shit. Maybe he’s kinky. Or maybe he meant what he said, about needing me presentable.
“She isn’t any of your concern,” Everett finally breaks the silence. He pulls a drawer open, pressing me to the vanity with his hips to keep me in place while plugging in the hair dryer. “I am.”
“And you like my hair,” I try.
“No.”
“I’ll cut it all off.” My dire last attempt is pathetic. I don’t have any other choice. “Then you’ll get bored with me.”
A huff of a wicked laugh. “It’s nowhere near that simple.”
I wish he were a decent man who’d actually want to marry me for me. I’ve dreamed of him, the broody and lonely asshole, whisking me away. So many times.
Careful what you wish for.
Everett’s surprisingly good with the blow dryer. Like he could guess I wouldn’t let Elena or Rylee do it. That I’d put up a fight, and they’d lose. He’s left no room for error in his vicious plan.
Sadly, I can’t enjoy his kind treatment for a second. It’s impossible to ignore his mean expression in the mirror. His lowered brow and pinched lips.
It’s even more impossible to forget that he’ll hurt me.
Even when he pampers me like he does.
