Page 38 of The Billionaire's Distraction

Revulsion washed over her when she felt the press of his erection against her thigh.That’s when the real fear knifed through her chest.She wasn’t just fighting an ugly man’s drunken stupidity—she was in serious danger.

Her breath hitched, and she twisted, trying to get a knee up, but he kept her pinned too close.His laughter filled her ears, thick and vile.

Naomi’s nails were her only weapon.She raked them across his face with every ounce of strength she had.

He roared, his hold breaking as he staggered back, one hand flying to his cheek.Four deep red lines appeared, already dripping blood.

“You bitch!”he bellowed, his face a mask of bloody rage.

Naomi stumbled back, clutching her torn shirt to her chest, her heart pounding so loud she thought the boys upstairs might hear it.She had seconds—maybe less—before he lunged again.

Naomi didn’t wait to see what would come next.She moved on instinct, shoving herself backward, crawling frantically across the cold tile.Her palms scraped against the floor where glass shards had scattered from his earlier tantrum, but she didn’t care.Escape—that was all she could think about.

She’d almost reached the far side of the room, almost convinced herself she was far enough away to stand and run, when a hand clamped around her ankle.

“NO!”she screamed, kicking wildly, her voice cracking with terror.

Tom only laughed, a deep, ugly sound that made her stomach twist.He yanked hard, dragging her back across the floor like she weighed nothing.His bulk loomed over her, and before she could roll away, he dropped down, pressing his weight into her body and pinning her arms above her head.

His bourbon-stained breath hit her face, the fumes making her eyes burn.His eyes were wild and primal, with a predatory gleam as they swept over her nearly bared breasts.

“I like it when they fight,” he leered, his lips curling with grotesque satisfaction.“Turns me on more.So go ahead, my little nanny.Fight all you want.You’re gonna be my afternoon delight.”

The words, the sound of his voice, made her stomach lurch.

He fumbled at her clothes, tugging, ripping, baring more of her skin.The elastic of her leggings burned against her hips as he yanked them downward.

Tears she hadn’t realized were falling burned down her cheeks.Naomi wrenched a hand free, desperation giving her strength.She clawed for his thinning hair, gripping hard and yanking his head back.His snarl reverberated in her ears, animalistic, as his hand shot out, striking her across the face.

The blow exploded white-hot across her cheek.She gasped, stunned, her head spinning.The moment of disorientation cost her dearly.

Her leggings were shoved down to her knees.She froze, panic filling her chest—until something colder, sharper cut through the fear.

Rage.

She refused to let him take anything else from her.

Naomi twisted hard, ignoring the weight pinning her shoulders, and jammed her hand downward.Her fingers locked around the most vulnerable part of him, the part that was hard and excited.With a scream that was part fury, part survival, she squeezed his erection with all her might.

The effect was instant.

Tom’s roar ripped through the house, high-pitched and inhuman.The sound echoed down the hall, loud enough to wake the boys upstairs, but Naomi didn’t care.She dug her nails in, twisting until he recoiled in pain.

She let go, scrambling to her knees, yanking her leggings up with shaking hands.Her chest heaved, her cheek stung, her hair clung to the tears streaking her face.She didn’t care about any of it.Survival was the only thought in her mind.

Tony.

She had to get to Tony.He’d make this stop.He’d hold her, shield her, protect her.

But as she staggered toward the door, Tom’s hand shot out again, grabbing for her ankle.

Fury roared through her.She spun, pulled back her free leg, and drove her heel into his groin with every ounce of strength she had left.

His scream this time was raw agony as his meaty grip fell away.

Naomi bolted.

Her torn shirt gaped open, the fabric brushing against her stinging skin, but she didn’t stop to cover herself.She didn’t stop for her purse, her wallet, her phone—none of it mattered.Her bare feet pounded down the hallway, across the marble entry, out into the bright afternoon sun.