Page 53 of Merciless Wager
“You fucking coward,” I seethed. “I’m not going with your uncles tomorrow, and no one can make me.”
He did raise his head at that, and simply shook his head as he flashed me a sympathetic smile.Pity. That was what it was, and it only infuriated me more.
“Did you ever fucking give a damn about me?”
“You should pack your things up if you intend on taking any of them with you,” is all he said as he pushed away from the pool table, intending to leave.
“We’re not done here. I want you to fucking answerme.”
“No,” he said.
“No, as in you’re not going to answer me? Or no, as in you never gave a damn?”
“Just no,” he said.
I scrubbed my shaking hands down my face, collecting a few of the tears that had started to slip from my eyes, before staring at him in disbelief. “That’s all you have to say? You uproot my entire world by kidnapping me, and?—”
“You’d gotten in the car willingly,” he pointed out.
“Semantics,” I yelled out at him before lowering my voice once more. “You wouldn’t let me go once I got here, so again, you’d kidnapped me.”
He seemed unfazed. “Today, you’re going to leave. Where is just not going to be your choice.”
“I fucking hate you,” I lied to him as my heart continued to break.
“Good!” he sneered. “Now go pack your things before you leave with nothing but that tattered nightgown on your back.”
“Tattered? It isn’t ripped.”
“But it will be if you stand here any longer.”
My core and heart ached simultaneously, and I now knew what it was like to feel both pleasure and pain at the same time. “Was I ever anything more than a warm body for you?” I asked him, and nearly went to my knees as his gaze flickered dismissively over me. “I can’t believe I ever thought you cared about me.”
With that, I quickly turned. I had gotten no more than two steps away when I stopped. “Bellezza!”
The endearment hadn’t been what unleashed the torrent of tears that had threatened to erupt. It had been the pained tone in the way he’d said it. I paused even as another sob escaped me.
“You’re more wrong than you’ll ever know,” is what he followed it up with.
I sacrificed my pride once more, which seemed to be a common occurrence where he was concerned, then stormed over to him. Before I knew it, I slapped him. The loud sound echoed in the air, and I winced at the burning of my palm. He didn’t seem the slightest bit fazed by it as he lightly grasped my throat and tipped my chin up.
“Wrong about what? You hate me because I’m?—”
He shook his head, silencing me. Right after, he twisted his hand enough to allow himself access to my chin and quiveringbottom lip. As his thumb brushed back and forth over it, I tried to read him, but couldn’t.
“One might get the wrong impression by this and think you actually care,” I murmured.
“Because I do. Goddamn hell, I fucking care,” he said before lowering his head to mine.
His warm breath tickled my chin as his thumb continued to stroke my lip. “Zar?—”
Before I could even say his name, he closed the distance between us. His mouth came down hard on mine. My pulse quickened, and while a small voice screamed at me to push him away, and even slap him again, it was silenced by the need bubbling up inside of me like a fountain.
The moment his tongue thrust between my lips, his hand moved back to my throat. A moan escaped, but he took that as encouragement. His other hand brushed against my cheek with the softness of a feather. This man was a walking and talking contradiction, but one thought kept repeating itself in my head.
Mine! He’s mine!
Only he wasn’t, and knowing that, I slipped my hands between us and pushed hard on his chest until he finally tore his mouth away from mine. As he did, his teeth nicked my bottom lip, and I could feel and taste the coppery tang of my blood as a few droplets rose to the surface.
