Page 54 of Vicious Cycle
Tossing the cigarette onto the ashtray on the table, I then lunged at Alex. Taking her by the throat with one hand, I glared into her eyes with enough venom that she should have cowered in fear. “If you were a man, I’d take you down for fucking with me like this.”
“If hitting me makes you feel better, frees you of the pain, then hit me.”
“Don’t tempt me.”
“Answer my question.”
“You got a death wish, woman?” I snarled.
“He tied you up, didn’t he?” As I flared my nostrils in anger, she said, “He didn’t just leave you in the car or another room. He made you watch what he did, but you couldn’t do anything to help her.”
Squeezing tighter on her throat, I willed her to shut up.
She was too close.
She knew too much.
She could seemetoo well.
Her fingers came to my hand, her nails digging into my skin. But as I stared into her eyes, there was no panic or fear in them. Easing back, I dropped the hand from her throat. I eyed it with contempt before dropping it beside me. What the hell had I been thinking to manhandle her like that?
“Oh fuck, Alex. I’m sorry,” I croaked. Shaking my head, I said, “I’m so fucking sorry.”
“No, I’m the one who is sorry.”
I blinked at her in disbelief. “You’re sorry? I’m the one who manhandled you.”
“But I deserved it.”
“No you didn’t.”
“And you didn’t hurt me.”
“I’m not sorry for that.”
“Excuse me?”
“I’m sorry for the helpless seven-year-old little boy who has been forced to carry around such a burden, such guilt, for something he couldn’t control.”
I practically leapt off the bed to get away from her. “Don’t you fucking dare start that pity shit with me!”
“I’m sorry that you’ve never been able to open up to anyone before for fear that they won’t love your darker parts.”
“Shut the fuck up!”
I then stormed out of the bedroom, slamming the door behind me. Although I wanted to march straight for the bar and down a few shots, my boots remained rooted to the hallway floor.
God, the things I’d said to her—the deepest, darkest parts of myself. No woman had ever gotten that much from me. Not Mama Liz, not Lacey. Fear had always bound me from revealingtoo much. That if they knew the real me, they couldn’t love me. Sure, they may have had their ideas about what I got up to in my business, but they never questioned me about it. Hell, no one had grilled me like Alexandra had.
For reasons I couldn’t fucking understand, I didn’t escape down the hall to throw some back with my brothers. Instead, I opened the fucking bedroom door and slipped back inside.
Alexandra sat on the edge of the bed, the sheet pulled up to her chest. Her brows rose at the sight of me. “Me coming back in here doesn’t mean I agree with what you said.”
“Okay,” she said softly.
I crossed the room to the bed. “You’re a fucking pain in my ass, Miss Evans.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be.”
