Page 186 of Ominous: Part 1
“Anything?”
I look up, finding his head tilted back against the seat as he gazes at me, his bottom lip between his teeth.
His hands slide up higher, under my skirt, around to my ass. He dips his chin, groaning as he nudges his nose with mine, and I hold in my head the shape of his affection as I sign myself over to his aggression.
But I meant what I said. “Anything, baby boy.” I drop my hands by my sides, leaning against his steering wheel, letting him shove my skirt up between us, his thumbs close to the cut out of my underwear. “I’d do anything, I’d let you do anything.” Inside my head, the violence I’ve seen through my phone screen plays, the words on his computer screen, and I want that for us. I want him to be that awfulness tome.
He’s staring at my thighs, his fingers tracing circles on my skin as I wait, barely breathing, trying not to think of what it is he might actually do to me. In this car, there isn’t room for much. But to put his hand over my mouth, cover my nose, that wouldn’t take much room at all, would it?
It’s enough to make me want to beg him for it.
“Eden.” The word sounds choked. He still doesn’t meet my gaze. “I don’t want you to ever regret me.”
I’m already opening my mouth to protest until I realize what he’s said. I thought the last word would be “it.” Whatever he’s going to do next in this car. I thought I would tell him nothing he hurt me with could scare me. I’d remind him of my fantasies, the way I liked how he barred his arm over my throat last time. How he slapped my thigh. How my brain isn’t so different from his. And despite his dark thoughts and chaotic impulses, I know he isn’t going to kill me.
But I don’t speak, stopping short. My lungs ache as I inhale, exhale, think of his words.
“I don’t want you to ever regretme.”
Slowly, his eyes come up to mine.
He goes very, very still, no longer running his fingers over my thighs.
“Why would I regret you?” My voice is small, trying to save room for how loud his answer may be.
“When you’re caught up in the moment, you say things to forge closeness.” He dips his head and presses a kiss to my sternum, over my clothes, like a gesture that comes before a blow, nothing sexual about it. “Youdothings to fake it. It’s like your logical brain shuts off.” Before I can agree or argue, he lifts his head and snatches up my wrist, flipping it between us and brushing my bracelets out of the way with his thumb.
I try to jerk back, surprise jolting me into a new awareness, but he tightens his hold, pressing into my bones. “Eli.Let me go.”
“Anything, you said.” His eyes hold mine, brows lifted in stern admonishment. “You saidanything.”
My face burns with humiliation, and I try again to get free.
His hold tightens, and it hurts a little, the pressure from the other weekend lingering in my muscles. I still, trying to breathe, refusing to show him I’m in pain. If I did, I’m afraid he’d stop.Maybe I don’t ever want him to.
For a second, we stare at one another.
Then he says, “Did you think you could hide it from me forever?”
Don’t look down.I plead it, over and over in my head.Please don’t.“We don’t have forever.” I say those words to hurt us both, to make us remember. To distract him.
But he only smiles, tracing the three letters with his thumb. “Is it a name, or initials?”
No, no, no.
I know he sees the mortification in my face, hears my shallow breaths, but he just holds my gaze, his smile thinning out into tightly held ire. “Tell me, Eden.”
“I don’t want to talk about—”
“If you can’t talk aboutthis,then you have no business crawling into my lap and offering yourself up to me so goddamn easily.”
I feel as if he slapped me, wincing as I try again to jerk my wrist free. His grip is too tight, and he yanks me closer to his chest, my palm stopping me from falling into him. “You pulled me to your fucking lap.” It’s the only thing I can think to say.“You did that—”
“You let me choke you. You want me to hurt you. You want me toslap you.Hit you. You want me to place my hand over your mouth, stop you from breathing?” He brings my wrist up to his mouth, closing it over the pearly scars, sucking my flesh with his lips until he pulls away, teeth pricking me.“Before we get there, why don’t you tell me this secret, baby girl.”
Then his gaze lowers, long lashes along with it, and the burn of humiliation in my stomach is painful. I close my eyes, so I don’t have to see him examine me.
“I know the answer already.” He kisses the inside of my wrist again as I try to stay very, very still, coldness flushing out the fervor of my embarrassment. We’ve never talked about this.
