Page 19 of Hush (Fighting Fate)

It wasn’t until his hand released mine that I realized I’d stopped fighting. I wasn’t kissing him back, but I certainly wasn’t giving him the right signals to stop either.

I tried to form some semblance of coherent thoughts. Tried to work out what my plan of attack was, but then his hand was around my waist, running over my lower back and around to my stomach. I felt it glide smoothly over my ribs, sending that tiny little thrill of something through my body, then his hand scrunched into a fist, pulling the folds of my dress in with it. I exhaled on a sigh…

A slight growl sounded in his chest, making something low in my stomach flitter. I tried pushing against him again, but even I knew the attempt was pathetic.

His hands moved over my hips, down past the hem of my dress and over my thighs. I felt his hands tighten and his chest and arms flex before the sound of ripping nylon caught my attention and my tights pulled roughly around my thigh.

I gasped. Oh my god. Did he just rip my tights?

His muscles flexed again and I felt the tight pull around my other thigh before there was another ripping sound.

My head spun. I had no idea what was happening, no idea why I wasn’t fighting harder. I gave myself a mental slap, telling myself to snap out of it, but then Mitch was biting my bottom lip, sucking on it.

What…?

Then all of a sudden he released me. He didn’t move away. He just stood there, his hard body only inches away from mine, but his hands and mouth no longer touched me.

Insanely, I felt a pang of disappointment. I pushed the thought away with self-disgust and screwed my eyes shut tight.

It didn’t help. It felt like my senses were on high alert. The sound and feel of his deep breath was doing something to my body. I could feel it on my face. I swallowed. It smelled sweet. Good.

Holy hell. I really was attracted to him. What was wrong with me?

When I eventually opened my eyes, he was gone, back on the other side of the room. He wasn’t looking at me, but I could feel his awareness of me like the tingling of a soft breeze. He poured himself another glass of bourbon, tipped it down, and turned to face me.

“Let’s go,” he said, the roughness of his voice sliding over me like warm butter.

My mind was still spinning. I was so confused, not only with my own weirded out emotions, but with the way he was acting. I had absolutely no idea which way was up or down when I was around him. I mean, he was a criminal for crying out loud.

After seeing what was going on downstairs, I couldn’t understand why he hadn’t gone any further. Hell, everything he’d done felt like he actually cared about what happened to me – well, except for the forced kissing. I didn’t understand that in the slightest.

He reached down and grabbed my jacket off the floor, holding it out to me like it was a peace offering. I blinked at it, trying to force my mind to catch up.

A slight hiccup suddenly made me realize I had tears falling down my face. When the hell had I started crying? Jesus, I was a freaking mess.

Mitch stood patiently, watching me and waiting like he had all the time in the world.

Forcing myself to snap out of it, I stepped forward and slid my arms into the sleeves. Wrapping it as tightly across my body as I could, I hoped it might hold the capacity to stop me from falling apart any more than I already was.

Mitch watched me as I struggled with my emotions. He actually looked like he wanted to say something, but was holding back for some reason. It was funny how I didn’t feel uncomfortable with his gaze this time. I didn’t know why that was, and I was pretty sure I didn’t ever want to know, because I knew the answer would only confused me more than I already was.

After what felt like an eternity, Mitch sighed and turned for the door, and with a strange sensation in my gut, I followed.

TJ was waiting for us at the bottom of the stairs. His eyes narrowed as I met his gaze, and I had to look away, not wanting him to see how distressed I was. I felt him scrutinizing my appearance, searching my hair, my clothes, even my mouth. The waiting eventually got to me and I looked up at him again. He smiled, and a shiver went down my spine.

“Want to drive her home, or should I get Pock to do it?” TJ said, all business.

I couldn’t hear much over the loud thumping music, but Mitch looked like he growled at him. “I’ll take her. Pock’s not getting into her pants until I’m done.”

Fear and anger exploded inside me at once. Realizing they were planning on sharing me around was sickening, but knowing Mitch was going to allow it made me angry. Then I was just angry at myself. Why had I allowed myself to think he was any different? I was so incredibly stupid.

TJ grinned. “Check out the strip on your way back – see what’s going down.”

Mitch nodded, then without another glance, grabbed my arm and marched me to the kitchen.

The little dark haired girl I’d seen with Davo when I’d first arrived was just inside the door, wearing only a bra. This time she was pinned up against the wall by one of the other guys, and she had her legs wrapped tightly around him as he pounded away. I was sure my face was as white as snow. I felt like I was seriously going to be sick. Didn’t these girls have any self-respect?

Mitch pulled me harder, thrusting open the back door and dragging me out to the car. It wasn’t until we were well away from the house that he finally spoke.

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