Page 43 of Fatal Collision
My brows knit. Why does he need me to say it out loud?
“Say. It.” The harsh bite of his voice slithers between my legs, and it’s not a lapping wave this time, but a swirling underwater current.
“You’re Kane Ravencourt.”
“I like my name on your lips,” he replies, gazing intently at my mouth. “You always say it with a hint of defiance that makes me hard for you. But that’s not all I am, is it?”
“You’re Benedict Ravencourt’s son.”
His mouth twitches. Just barely. “My family owns this town and everyone in it. You, Jessica Holt, belong to me.”
My lips thin. Nothing I say will get me out of this situation. But if he thinks I’m his, he’s dead wrong.
Leaning in closer, he breathes me in, his lips brushing against my ear. “The sooner you accept the truth, little rabbit, the better.”
When he leaves this time, I crawl out of bed to lock the window behind him before wiping my face clean with the first piece of clothing I grab from the laundryhamper. As I toss it back inside, I question what the hell I’ve gotten myself into. This is my fault. I caused this when I broke into his father’s office and pulled a gun on him. Yes, my thoughts have trailed down this cul-de-sac before. I’m aware of that. But this is the first time it truly dawns on me that I’ve enticed something that was better left alone.
Kane has smelled blood in the water, and he’ll keep circling, biting chunks out of my wounded legs, until I’m swept under. In the meantime, there’s nothing I can do except try not to drown or bleed out.
Whichever comes first.
THIRTEEN
KANE
The weather is fucking gray. Just like my sour mood. I fucking hate this.
“I swear, this will be the last fucking time,” I grind out.
It better fucking be, because I’m not doing this again. Our father can go fuck himself if he thinks we’re his puppets. We’re not.
“You say that every time.”
My brows pull down low, and I force my gaze away from the road to look at Cash.
Arms crossed over his broad chest, he slouches in the passenger seat with his eyes closed and his legs spread wide. He’s calm, unlike me… and resigned, because he knows that we don’t get a fucking say, but he hates it as much as I do.
“I mean it this time,” I mutter. My mobile phonelights up with a notification in the middle compartment, and my heart does a weird little flip. I can’t get that Jessica girl out of my head. She’s under my skin, burrowing deeper every time I seek her out to see her expressive eyes flash with defiance.
“Let’s just get this over with,” my twin mutters, dragging a hand over his face before he sits up straighter.
The large metal gates to my father’s estate loom up ahead, and the guard on duty puts his coffee down to let us in. It’s early evening. We’re half an hour late, which my father will grumble about without a doubt, but screw him.
It starts to drizzle as I park up beside the senator’s car.
Cash rubs his nose to ensure there’s no powder left. “I’m not high enough for this shit.”
I’m not high at all. Whatever he’s had, I could do with some of that, because fuck this. I can already feel my skin crawl.
“Come on,” I grumble, shoving open the door and exiting the vehicle. “The old man is already blowing up my phone for being late.”
Our butler waits for us by the front door, bowing politely as we jog up the steps. Cash walks ahead, straightening his black tie and running an agitated hand through his hair.
Yeah, he’s high, alright.
Our father narrows his eyes at us as we enter the dining room. I ignore him. We turned up like he demanded, didn’t we? Not once have I promised the old man we’d be on time.
We greet the senator and his wife, and Cash pulls out a seat across from me. The meal is a lavish one, as usual.
