Page 58 of Pray for Scars
“The truth,” she whispers. “Why were you…what do you want with me?”
I nuzzle against her neck, hear her gasp as my fingers close tighter around her throat. “Too much,” I answer her. And it’s an honest answer, but not what she wants. I spin her around, her palms catching herself against the wall as my hands run down her sides, down her hips, over her round ass.
“I want too much.” My hands go around her waist, to the button of her jeans.
“Tell me,” she gasps out, throwing her head back as I undo her zipper, then run my hands under her hoodie, over her shirt, up to her small, perky tits.
I brush my thumbs over her nipples, feel them harden at my touch. She tries to bite back a moan, but I hear her whimper.
“I want your brother to keep his goddamn hands off of you. The rest…” I bring my hands up over her chest, to the base of her throat. “I’ll show you.” I step back, slide my hands back down to her jeans. “Lift up your arms.”
She does.
I tug her shirt and her hoodie off, drop them to the floor. I see her sexy ass spine, her shoulder blades shifting as she glances at me, her eyes wild in the lights above us. I don’t want anyone to hurt her. Ever. In any way.
Except for me.
She’s still staring at me, and I wonder just how much she wants to hurt.
“Turn back around.”
She does as I say, and I run my finger down her spine, watch as she shivers.
“You’re gonna have to pay for your brother’s fuck up.” I step closer, hands on her waist as I lick my way down her spine and feel her squirm under my tongue. “For threatening Ria.” I already know she told her. I already got the text. It’s cute, how Sid tried to blame it on her brother, not giving Ria’s name up. Not so cute she was so ready to open her mouth to Maverick in my fucking house.
“What about yours?” she counters. “What about your fuck ups?”
I straighten, wrap her hair around my fist and tug her head back. My mouth is by her cheek, our heads together. “I didn’t fuck up, Sid.” I twist her head, kiss her mouth. She opens against my tongue, but I pull back, biting her gently before I break the kiss off. She tastes so fucking good, just like the best poisons always do. “You did. You and Jeremiah. You did that all by yourself.” I yank her hair again, so her throat is exposed to the ceiling. I see her eyes close and think she isn’t going to say anything. That she wants me to keep going. To make this worse for both of us.
But just as I reach for her jeans, to pull them down before I get to her boots, she says, “He’s not really my brother, is he?”
My mind goes blank.
I let go of her hair, press her against the wall, my hands flat against it on either side of her, chest pressing down on her back.
My heart is slamming around in my chest, and I can barely fucking breathe.
“What did he do to you?” I ask her, voice hoarse. Her head is twisted to the side, cheek against the wall.
“Fuck you,” she spits at me, trying to turn to face me but I don’t let her. “You were just fucking Ophelia—”
I slam my fist against the wall. “Did you lie to me? Did he fuck you?” I growl, and before I can stop myself, I add, “Again?”
She stiffens beneath me, her entire body going rigid. “Fuckyou,” she says again, “you piece of fucking—”
“Didyoufuckhim, Sid? Is that it? He wanted his dick in you so bad he fed you a line about not being your brother and you fucking went and spread your legs for him?” I close my eyes, trying not to gag on the thought. Trying not to see it in my head.
No wonder she let me take her in this house without a fight, even after what she’d heard with Ophelia. So calm. She’d already gone and done the one fucking thing I can’t forgive her for. Maverick was one thing, but fucking Jeremiah? After what I saw with them that night? The scars for her. The blood for her.
She doesn’t want my forgiveness, though. She was never going to ask for it.
I back away from her and she spins around but doesn’t move away from the wall. Her chest is heaving, her pink nipples hard, her pants still undone, nearly slipping from her narrow waist. But I keep my eyes on her steel grey ones. She doesn’t cover herself, and any other day, I’d fucking love that. But not right now.
“You—” I shake my head, hands fisting in my hair. “How fucking could you?”
She lets her gaze linger on mine a minute and then she buttons her jeans, does up the zipper, swipes her shirt and hoodie up from the floor and shoves them on quickly.
Her hair is a sexy ass mess around her face when she faces me again but all I can think of is the fact that Jeremiah motherfucking Rain probably saw this, too.
