Page 80 of Brutal
“Especially now.”
A pause. Then?—
“You won’t like where all of this leads.”
“That’s not your decision.”
“No,” he says. “It’s not. But it becomes my problem.”
I shake my head, frustrated. “Again. You say the same thing over and over. Everything seems to be your problem lately.”
He drops his gaze—briefly—to my mouth. “That’s because you keep making yourself part of my problem.”
My pulse jumps. I ignore it. “That sounds like blame.”
“It’s observation.”
“And what are you observing right now?”
“That you’re not afraid.”
“And I should be?”
“Yes.”
“I’m not.”
“I know.”
That should end it.
It doesn’t.
Instead, something builds underneath both of us that has nothing to do with questions or answers anymore.
He lifts his hand. Slowly.
I could step back.
I don’t.
He closes his fingers around my neck. He’s not gentle, and his eyes—God, his eyes—I can’t tell if it’s rage or passion behind them. I’m not sure I care which.
“Delaney,” he says, his voice husky.
“What?”
“You don’t understand what you’re doing.”
“Then show me.”
The words come out before I can stop them. Before I can take them back.
He tightens his grip enough to hurt. He could strangle me with so little effort. But I don’t care.
Then he pulls me into him, nearly stealing my breath.
My hands come up automatically against his chest. I’m ready to push. To push him away.
