Page 66 of No One But Me
Certain.
Final.
"You only get to decide how difficult you make it."
Chapter 10
Gideon
My pulse thundered in my ears, drowning out everything except the ragged edge of her breathing and the small, broken sound she made when my fingers found the button of her jeans.
Metal gave way beneath my thumb.
Simple. Mechanical.
The zipper followed with a whisper of teeth separating, each increment of descent marking territory claimed.
Her hands gripped the table edge hard enough that her knuckles went white. Tendons stood out in sharp relief along her wrists. She didn't push me away. Didn't fight. Just held on like the wood was the only solid thing left in a world tilting sideways.
Smart girl.
She'd learned faster than I'd expected.
Resistance only prolonged things. Made them messier. Added struggle to an equation already weighted in my favor.
This way—her stillness, her silent fury—gave her the illusion of dignity.
I'd allow that.
For now.
Tears burned at the corners of her eyes. I watched them gather, suspended, refusing to fall through sheer force of will.
"I hate you."
The words shook.
Genuine. Raw. Everything I'd wanted to hear since the night she'd looked through me at that gala like I was beneath her notice. Like I didn't matter. Like I was nothing.
I studied her face—the defiance carved into every angle, the terror she wouldn't name, the heat she'd rather die than acknowledge.
Perfect.
"Good," I said quietly. "Hate lasts."
Longer than fear.
Longer than shame.
Hate kept people tethered when everything else burned away.
I hooked my fingers into the denim at her hips.
She stiffened. Breath caught. But her hands stayed locked on the table, white-knuckled and trembling, holding position like I'd trained her already without saying a word.
The jeans peeled away easily. Down over her thighs. Past her knees. Off completely.
She didn't resist. Didn't kick. Didn't make me work for it.
