Page 17 of Shattered King

Shoving down my fear, I pushed up farther, shimmying, working my butt though the small gap.

A hand wrapped around my ankle. “Going somewhere?”

Shit. Shit. Shit.

I stayed where I was, ass in the air, head dangling, afraid to move. He gave my leg a tug, and I kicked out in a last ditch effort to break free. The hand left my ankle and then two were at my hips, dragging me back in.

“No! Let me go.” I fought his hold.

It did me no good. I was pulled back inside, ass hitting the toilet seat a second later. Hunter reached up and shoved the window shut, then lifted me off the toilet and carried me into the living room, slamming the door shut behind him.

I landed on the couch hard, head bouncing on the firm cushions. I stared up at him, but he ignored me, walked away to the kitchen, and came back with a bottle of water and two slices of pizza.

“Eat.”

He was pissed, so I kept my mouth shut and did what I was told. Plus, I was starving. I finished both pieces quickly and half the water. He grabbed my arm again and dragged me to my feet, but went past the bathroom door and toward a room at the back. “Where are we going?”

“Bed.”

“What do you mean, bed?”

He didn’t answer and flicked on the bedroom light.

The room was small. A double bed with a slatted headboard and a floral quilt sat in the middle, a dresser beside that. Nothing else. I wanted to run screaming from the room.

“Lie down,” he barked.

I did what I was told, without protest. Protesting would be pointless. I heard the chain when he lifted it, threaded through the baseboard. He wrapped it around my ankle, padlocking it into place. The chain wasn’t too thick, but it was cold and uncomfortable.

“Now what?” I whispered.

“Now I get some fucking sleep.”

He yanked his T-shirt over his head, revealing all that beautiful inked skin. His jeans sat super low, a trail of dark hair leading my gaze even lower. God, I remembered kissing my way down that taut stomach, tracing those abs with my tongue. His chest was more defined, arms thicker. I’d never seen a man more beautifully made. He turned his back, and I traced every stunning inch of him with my hungry gaze. Across his shoulders and back, down to his narrow hips . . .

I closed my eyes, blocking out the sight of my name inked into his skin. It hurt to look at it, to look at him. To look at what was once mine. What I’d been forced to give up. But Hunter wasn’t just a gorgeous body. When he let you in, like he had me, you were the luckiest girl in the whole damn world. I’d never get over it. Never get over him.

The light flicked off, and a second later the mattress dipped. He didn’t touch me, kept to his side of the bed. He used to roll me into him, even if he was asleep. He’d pull me close, tangle his legs with mine, arm around my waist, hand going to my chest. Always.

I rolled away, onto my side and listened to him breathing in the dark.

How was I supposed to sleep with him right beside me?

It wasn’t going to happen . . .

I woke warm, deliciously warm, cocooned in heat. I made a contented sound in the back of my throat and snuggled deeper.

Something warm tickled my ear, then the sound of steady, even breaths reached me through the dark.

That’s when I snapped out of my sleep haze and remembered where I was.

Hunter was pressed against my back. One of his thighs was wedged between mine, his arm draped over my waist, big hand cupping my breast, like he always used to.

Oh shit.

He was still asleep. I could tell by the way he was breathing.

My body revved to life, full-on need humming through me from head to toe. I tried to move, to get some distance between us, but his fingers tightened, curling, digging into my now aching flesh. His knee lifted higher, pressing more firmly between my legs.