Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 105506 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 528(@200wpm)___ 422(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105506 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 528(@200wpm)___ 422(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
She and I had been doing shots since I arrived.
Originally, I’d gone there on the hunt for Colby. I’d been planning on telling him about the reporter at the coffee shop. He’d do something about it. The club would do something about it. The old Sariah would’ve tit punched me for going to a club full of men—who didn’t even allow women to patch in—to solve my problems instead of bitch slapping the reporter and running her out of town myself. But I wasn’t strong enough for that.
It seemed I was strong enough to get drunk with my biker friends, though. I’d lapsed into old patterns easily. It felt nice to inhabit the person I used to be, at least for a little while.
And yeah, since it felt nice, I might’ve gotten carried away.
Just a little.
My shirt was no longer on my body. It was somewhere on the floor. The bustier I was wearing underneath my shirt—the one that was almost completely sheer but with intricate enough lace to disguise my scars—was on full display. I’d worn it for Colby. He enjoyed lingerie. Well, for about one minute before he ripped it off me. But I enjoyed that one minute. I especially enjoyed what happened afterward.
He did not enjoy me showing that lingerie to a club full of people. He communicated that by snatching me off the bar without ceremony.
I hadn’t even noticed him enter the room.
“Let me go,” I shrieked against the music.
Colby did not, he just pulled me closer to him, striding away from the party, the music getting quieter with every step.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he hissed as he carried me down the hallway.
“This is like Groundhog Day or something,” I whined. “How many times will you fireman carry me down this very fucking hallway like you have the right?”
“It is my fuckin’ right,” Colby seethed, opening the door to his room before roughly setting me down on my feet.
The door slammed behind him.
He was pissed. He was showing this by using his physical strength against me. I didn’t like that. Not at all. No, that wasn’t right. I didn’t like that I liked that. My life had almost been ended by a man who used strength and authority against me. It should’ve made my skin crawl, not make my panties wet.
Boy, was I fucked-up.
“It is not your right, Colby,” I spat at him, stomping to the middle of the room before turning to face off with him.
“You’re mine,” he folded his arms, staying in his spot in front of the door, as if he expected me to try to escape.
Again, that certainly should’ve been another trigger. But I was too pissed off, drunk and horny to let too much of my trauma sink in.
“And what does that mean to you, Colby?” I asked.
“It means that you do not get wasted, dance on tables and start takin’ your clothes off.”
“Oh, okay,” I nodded. “So what would you like me to do?” I put my hands on my hips. “Would you like me to cover up? Sober up? Shut up?”
“Don’t fucking act like I’m controlling you.”
I tilted my head at him. “Physically dragging me around and telling me what I can and can’t do because I’m yours is control, baby,” I replied in a sugary sweet tone. “And that’s just not gonna happen. You see, I think you are under the impression that because I came back here, because I’m trying this thing out with you, that I’m gonna be magically healed. That I’m going to come to heel.”
I leisurely crossed the distance between us. “I am still me.” I trailed my finger down his chest. “Even though I’m a little more fucked-up than before, I’m doubly against some man chaining me up.”
Colby recoiled.
It was impossibly cruel of me to say that, and I instantly regretted it.
“This is you,” he agreed, recovering from my verbal blow. “You love to party, to piss me off and to cause trouble. But there is a reason for this.” He waved his hand at me.
“Stop knowing me so fucking well,” I pushed away from him.
He smiled sadly. “Not possible.”
I sighed, suddenly tired. I couldn’t do another fight. I couldn’t hurt Colby because I was too much of a coward to face up to myself. That bit was tired. “I had a visitor at the café today. A reporter.”
Colby’s expression turned stormy. He quickly crossed the distance between us, taking me into his arms, no longer pissed at me, instantly forgiving me for my childish and mean actions.
He was the only thing holding me together.
“She knows about me,” I whispered, feeling cold despite Colby’s arms around me. “She’s going to do a story about me.”
“No she fuckin’ isn’t,” Colby replied right away.
I tilted my head up to him, observing the anger he was feeling on my behalf, his immediate and instinctive need to protect me.