Page 38 of Tommy
Chapter 14—Payton
“Wha—”
I can’t even finish asking the question. My mind is stalled on that word. Fear spikes through me. But along with it comes heat. A steady heat that rises from the tips of my toes to the top of my head.
“I don’t like repeating myself,” he says as he brings his coffee to his lips, sipping from the ceramic cup easily as I just watch his lips separate. Hoping, praying,beggingfor another word to come out of his mouth. One that says it’s a joke. One denying his claim. Anything but that.
But it doesn’t come. His face is neutral, other than an expectant eyebrow raise at me. One that has me standing before I know what I’m doing.
I shake as I slide my arms out of the sweater, raising the ends up and over my head a moment later. Then stopping. Stalling. Seeing if this is enough.
But I know it’s not.
With unshed tears in my eyes, I look away as I pull off the shirt I was wearing underneath, dropping it to the side.
He coughs to clear his throat, and it sends a tremor through me. The heat that was once there is gone, replaced by ice in my veins as a chill takes over.
Without looking, I push down the sleep shorts he lent me, letting them fall down my legs. I don’t move other thanthat. They land on top of my feet, but I couldn’t kick them away even if I tried.
I can’t do anything more.
I’m in my bra and underwear in front of someone who claims to own me. Who I said I would never sleep with. Who made it clear he doesn’t like to be denied. And yet I can’t move to continue to do as he asked.
This is as far as I can go. Nothing more. My body won’t let me. My brain is screaming at me to cover up, to run and hide. But my limbs are as solid as ice.
The scrape of his chair on the floor makes me flinch. I don’t look at him, but I watch his shadow from the morning sun shining in the window as it moves across the hardwood floor. It encases me in its darkness a second before his feet come into view.
Only when his fingers lift my chin do I look up into his eyes.
There’s no anger in his gaze. No lust. Just calculations as he looks over my face.
When his fingers drop away, I keep my eyes on him. He takes a step back, his own eyes lingering over my body before his feet take him around me looking over everything that I am and finding me… I don’t know.
Wanting?
Unacceptable?
Desirable?
The heat that I felt earlier stirs inside me once more. The small bit that feels lust for this man. The part of me that ignores the fact that it’s not safe, not right, to see Tommy asanything but a danger to me. That finds him more than attractive and seeks his touch for comfort and protection.
It’s that part of me that reaches out to him when I’m weak. That thought the club was the safest place for me after I was attacked. Knowing that if I got to him, got to Tommy, I would be cared for. Looked after.
I don’t know why there’s something in me that thinks this way. That almost craves him. It’s unnatural. I’ve spoken to him very little, seen even less of him this past month, and yet that part doesn’t die. It doesn’t grow either, but no matter what I say to make it go away, it doesn’t. It’s a candle that won’t ever stop burning. Yearning for something it wants, but the rest of me knows I shouldn’t have.
“Are you sore?” he asks once he’s finished walking around me, but his eyes don’t seem to be done looking me over. They continue to assess me as he tilts his head and crosses his arms in front of his chest. Something I wish to do to cover myself, but I hold my hands firm at my sides. He let me get away with not showing him more for now. If I cover what little I’ve revealed to him, I don’t know if he would be so forgiving.
I shake my head. Like my limbs, my mouth seems frozen shut.
He nods. “Good. We can cover the bruises for you to perform tonight. And while they heal, you can start learning to dance.”
I blink, shocked, as I watch him turn and walk to the other side of the table, presumably to pick up his phone or his coffee. Both are still where he left them when he came over to examine me.
“I know how to dance,” I say without thinking.
My tongue is no longer frozen in my mouth. My feet even step forward an inch. Just enough for me to feel the pull of the fabric of his shorts around both ankles.
He raises an eyebrow at me as he sips his coffee once more and glances at his phone, tapping away one-handed as he all but ignores me.
