Page 30 of Ricochet

“I didn’t ask you if you were hungry. Eat.”

“Fuck you,” she spat back.

My tongue raked across my teeth as my grin widened at her pathetic act of rebellion. “You’d love that, wouldn’t you?”

She cut her gaze back to me, chin inclined again, and I knew something feisty was itching to fly from her mouth. “I’d rather walk a mile with a cucumber up my ass than fuck you.”

“I can arrange that.” Hell, I’d have paid to see that shit. “You’re something else, Pistol Lips.”

Her eye twitched. “What did you call me?”

“Pistol lips.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“Firing off at the mouth. Seems to be your signature trait. Should’ve grabbed a muzzle instead of the chains.”

“I—”

As soon as her mouth opened, I shoved the strawberry inside.

Nostrils flared, she chewed and swallowed. “You’re—” Another word, another strawberry slipped past her lips, and she growled, lifting her head up off the pillow, chewing all pissed off and gnashing her teeth.

The strawberry juice trickling out the corner of her mouth damn near broke me, had me choking back laughter, like I’d gotten a glimpse of some kind of rabid animal inside of her, ready to tear me apart. “Got something else to say?” I held up a forkful of eggs.

The corner of her lips lifted, eyes shooting daggers, and she nodded. “You’re a fucking d—”

In went the eggs.

She remained silent while I fed her the remaining plate full of food, until the last bite, when she looked up. “Why me? Why am I here?”

I’d expected the question—was surprised she hadn’t asked it sooner. Didn’t mean I planned to answer her. “Open your mouth.”

The groove of her brow deepened for only a moment before her eyes softened to sadness, and she opened her mouth wide, closing her lids. The sight was incredibly erotic, particularly when the tip of her tongue slid out ready to accept the last strawberry.

Mesmerized, I set it on her tongue, silently chiding myself for the hard-on pressing against my jeans. What kind of sadistic bastard … The kind of arousal I felt for her had nothing to do with feelings, or any level of attraction to the woman. I wanted the opportunity to take from Aubree Culling—something that would cut her as deep as I’d been cut. A hate fuck, where I’d leave her in pain and sobbing, drowning in her own self-loathing, the way I had that first year, before Alec had approached me with the idea of revenge.

I wanted her to feel small, vulnerable, weak.

She opened her eyes, and only then did I notice the way my hand trembled in front of her. I quickly lowered the fork and shot up from the chair.

I might’ve been a killer. A ruthless son of a bitch, but I wasn’t a rapist. To keep from doing something stupid, I had to get away from her.

“I want to see it,” she blurted.

“See what?” I couldn’t hide the disgust in my voice, knowing she’d caught sight of my momentary weakness.

“Your scar. Earlier, you said, we all have scars.” She lowered her head back onto the pillow. “Let’s see yours.”

The woman thought she’d softened me.

“Fuck off,” I said, walking out the door.

CHAPTER 13

Nick

Aside from bringing her a plate full of lunch, I managed to keep my distance from Aubree for most of the day, locking myself away in my room, surfing the deep ‘net. Nothing quite fucked up the day like a dose of the darkest bowels of web, and I’d hit the jackpot when I stumbled upon the Blue Orchid site, a copycat of the original child pornography site that’d been busted by the authorities a few years back. Only an idiot would assume the name of a high profile case, but then again, folk could get away with shit like that on the deep ‘net.