Page 51 of Frozen Heart
I thought the nerves I’m feeling now couldn’t surpass what I experienced the first time I walked down one of the long, gothichallways, but as I follow Roxanne, my instincts have me ready to bolt. As the pressure gets overwhelming, though, I remind myself that I’m doing this for my mom. I am her only hope for a chance at survival. And there’s nothing on this earth I won’t do for her. I’d beg, steal, or borrow, sell my soul to the devil if I need to, all to see her healthy and smiling again. After all, it’s just sex. I’ll get over it. Eventually.
I’m led down a different hallway than usual. Roxanne’s hand lands on my shoulder when we stop in front of an unfamiliar door. “Last chance. If you want to back out, I can ask someone else to jump in.”
“I’m good.” My voice doesn’t sound like my own.
She squeezes my shoulder and nods, then reaches for the red scarf tied around the handle.
Blinded, I step into the room. The instant I cross the threshold, I feel it. A different vibe. The temperature is warmer. It makes my skin clammy.
“There you go.” Roxanne urges me forward until my knees connect with a soft surface. “You can have a seat. Your guest will be here shortly.”
As before, I expect it to be a sofa, so when the soft surface under me gives more than I’m used to, my heart rate skyrockets.
Not a sofa. A bed.
Roxanne’s heels echo on what must be a hardwood floor as she departs. Somewhere ahead, the door shuts, and the lock slides into place. Barely a moment later, I hear another door opening on the other side of the room.
My silent guest is here.
His steps sound lighter than usual. Hurried as he comes near. The different flooring must account for the variation in his gait.
The mattress beside me dips, slanting me toward the new occupant.
“Good evening.”
I tense at the quietly spoken words.
“Red becomes you.”
The voice isn’t deep. The tone is relaxed. Friendly even. Not at all how I imagined it after that strained, gravelly whisperedshow me. It throws me. After all this time waiting to hear it, do I like the sound of his voice?
A hand lands on my knee. “God, you’re gorgeous.”
My stomach feels like it’s in free fall. Something is wrong.
He… He is wrong.
I keep my back straight, my unseeing eyes focused right before me, while I try to keep my breathing under control. He doesn’t feel like my silent guest. He doesn’t even smell the same. I’m suffocating, choking on a heavy cologne, smoky and woodsy. And also the lingering scent of an expensive cigar, an overpowering one that makes me want to cough. So…so wrong.
An alarm blares in my head.
It’s not him! It’s not my silent guest!
“So exquisite.” A touch of frantic energy infuses his voice.
Not him! Not him! Not him!
“Like a little doll.” Sickly sweet breath fans my neck.
Oh my God!
Palm. Gliding further up the inside of my thigh. Instinctively, I press my legs together. I know what I came here to do, but it’s as if my body doesn’t want to follow my rational thought. Everything inside me screams,NO!I can’t do this!
“Don’t do that.” He moves his hands between my thighs, prying them apart. “I’m trying, but my patience has limits.”
Wet, sticky tongue runs up my neck. The sensation makes me shudder, makes bile rise in my throat.
His palm presses against my breasts, pushing me until my back hits the bed.
