Page 62 of Brutal
“That you’re not telling me everything.”
He lets out a low growl. “Of course I’m not.”
“You knew,” I say. “You knew someone was here.”
“Yes.” He looks around my place again. “Is anything missing?”
“No.”
“They weren’t looking for something you have.”
“No.”
“They were looking at you.”
A chill runs through me. “Not at what I know?”
He pulls me to him, raises his hand once more. I wince, despite myself.
“You’re pushing too far,” he says.
I glare at him. “So are you.”
A pause. I try to steady my breathing.
Then—
“You’re not stopping,” he says.
“No. What are you going to do? Shove me again?”
He slides his hand from my jaw—his touch is oddly comforting—to the back of my neck. He threads his fingers through my hair.
He’s so close. His lips are close to mine. I can feel his breath on my flesh.
“You’re going to get yourself hurt,” he says.
“Or I’m going to find something you don’t want me to.”
Anger flashes in his eyes. His hand is still on the back of my neck. He’s bigger than I am. So much stronger. It wouldn’t take much for him to snap my spine like a twig.
His jaw goes rigid.
I keep my gaze trained on his. I will not back down. I won’t. I’ve come too far to?—
“Delaney,” he says, quieter now, “you don’t understand what happens if you get this wrong.”
“Then tell me.” I don’t pull away. I don’t break eye contact. I don’t give him anything.
And for a second—a split second when his eyes soften just a bit—I think he might actually level with me.
Instead he drops his gaze to my mouth.
God.
That look.
He pulls me in, and this time he doesn’t stop.
