Page 150 of Love Me Stalk Me
He turns back to me. "You're not breaking up with me."
My heart is pounding now, to the point where I can hear its beat. "Evan," I repeat, trying to keep my voice steady. "Yes. I am."
I see it before it happens, but there's nothing I can do to stop it. His body tenses, his muscles rigid beneath his expensive Oxford. His hands clench into white-knuckled fists and his face contorts, transforming from handsome to monstrous in seconds. And then,he lunges at me.
I try to move, try to run, but he's too fast. He grabs me, shoving me back against the desk. The edge digs painfully into my spine, sending pain shooting up my back. His hand wraps around my throat. I gasp, clawing at him, fingernails scraping against his wrist, trying desperately to break his hold. I kick my legs, my heel connecting with his shin.
"You're not ruining us, Izzy!" he snarls, spit flying from his lips, landing on my cheek. "You're not wasting all those years of my life just to walk away now!"
I struggle, my vision blurring at the edges, my pulse roaring in my ears. I twist, shove, try to break free, but the office is too small.
There's nowhere to go.
He throws me to the ground, pinning me down with his weight. My head cracks against the floor. Stars explode behind my eyes, bright and disorienting.
Panic overtakes me.
It drowns out everything else.
I kick, scratch, shove—anything to get him off me. My nails catch his cheek, drawing blood. I see the red line appear, but it doesn't stop him.
He's too strong.
Too determined.
His hands are everywhere.
Gripping.
Tearing.
Taking.
"Evan, stop!" I gasp, thrashing under him. The carpet burns against my exposed skin, rough and unyielding.
He doesn't stop.
He presses his weight against me, pinning me down, my softer curves crushed beneath his angular frame. I can feel every bone in his body digging into mine.
My lungs burn with each desperate gasp for air. My muscles scream as I struggle against his grip. My mind fragments, unable to process what's happening, unable to believe this is real. That a man I spent years of my life with could do something like this.
He grabs my wrists, yanking them above my head, holding them there with one hand while the other?—
No.
Iwon’tlet this happen to me.
I buck against him, desperate, frantic. My knee connects with his thigh, missing its target by inches.
His breath is hot against my face, the scent of coffeeand mint invading my nostrils. His fingers dig bruises into my flesh that I know will bloom purple tomorrow.
"All you did was deny me," he snarls, voice thick with rage and lust—a toxic, predatory hunger that makes my skin crawl. "Tell me ‘no.’ Well, guess what?"
He yanks at my blouse, the buttons popping and scattering across the floor.
"I'm not taking that from you anymore."
No, no, no.
