Page 38 of Bombshell

Micah’s fingers wrapped around my upper arm. “Come with me.” His words didn’t leave anything up for discussion.

He was gently pulling me from my seat. I could either fight him or stand up. Not wanting to draw more attention to myself, I did as told, although I hoped he intended to take me to a room and leave me. Talking to him after what had happened at the apartment earlier would be more humiliation dropped on top of what I was already suffering.

I could feel everyone’s eyes on me. I kept my gaze down, not enjoying being the center of attention. I was unfamiliar with it, and I was finding I didn’t care for it at all. Micah wrapped an arm around my shoulders and led me out of there, through the red door. Once we were in the dark hallway and away from prying eyes, I moved away, shrugging him off me.

One hundred twenty-two, one hundred twenty-two, one hundred twenty-two.

“I prefer you not touch me,” I said, walking away from him. Unsure where it was I should be going.

“We both know that’s not true, Tink,” he said behind me.

I stopped and inhaled a deep breath. I wouldn’t allow this to break me. I was stronger than that. I had to be. I’d lived through worse.

“Just take me to a room and drop me off. I want to be alone and get through this hell so that I can go back home,” I replied.

Micah walked past me and toward the stairs. “Fine,” was all he said.

I fell into step behind him and tried to tamp down all the anger, hurt, and mix of several emotions churning in my chest. I should add hate to that list. I hated that he could make me feel like this. That I cared what he thought of me. I hated that I wanted his approval. And I hated that he’d pushed me to self-harm. It had been years since I’d injured myself on purpose. To deal with my inner turmoil. I’d been to therapy for it. I had overcome it. Yet Micah had sent me back to it with little work on his part at all.

We reached the top, and he turned right, but he didn’t stop at the door to the room I had been left in the last time I was here. Instead, he kept walking until he reached the end of the hallway and opened the last door, then stood back and motioned for me to go inside. I didn’t bother looking at him as I walked by him and into the new room.

I was so focused on showing no reaction to him at all that I didn’t realize the room looked like it belonged to someone. It was clearly lived in. The door slammed, startling me. I spun around to see Micah standing there, watching me.

“Where are we?” I asked.

“My room.”

His room? My eyes scanned the area again, paying more attention to details. The king-size bed didn’t take up even half the space. The room was twice the size, if not three times bigger, than the other room I had seen. A massive flat screen covered the wall across from the bed. A black dresser sat below it. There was a guitar in a stand in the left corner of the room, a pair of jeans thrown over a brown leather chair. And the scent, it was as if I had shoved my face in Micah’s chest.

“Why did you bring me here?” I asked him, finally turning my gaze back to his.

“All the rooms are full. My bed is the only available one,” he replied, then began to shrug off his leather vest as he made his way over to the dresser. “It’s a big bed, Tink. You’ll have plenty of room.”

Was he being serious? He was planning on us both sleeping in the same bed? My hands fisted at my sides. Did he think this was funny?

“I won’t sleep in that bed,” I said, staring at it with loathing. Knowing what he’d been doing up here just a few minutes ago.

He cocked an eyebrow at me. “Is that so? Interesting since you were ready to let me fuck you just a few hours ago.”

The humiliation from his words hit me, and I closed my eyes and tried to focus on not showing any emotion. When I looked at him again, I felt all the anger, rejection, and betrayal rise up inside me.

“I had a moment of insanity,” I snapped. “Let’s blame it on my being…slow.”

Micah took three long strides until he was standing so close that I could feel the heat from his body.

“Don’t ever,” he said through clenched teeth, “say shit like that about yourself again.”

I tilted back my head and glared up at him. “I’m sorry. I was unaware only you were allowed to insult and demean me.”

His nostrils flared as he stared down at me. The flash of regret I saw in his pale blue eyes wasn’t enough for me to feel any sympathy for him.

“Dolly, I…” His gaze dropped then, and his entire body tensed. “What the fuck happened to your leg?” he demanded angrily, then went down on one knee and pushed my skirt up further to see the smeared blood from where my nails had broken my skin. “Who did this?!” The threat in his voice made me shiver. But his touch probably also had something to do with that.

“I did,” I bit out, pulling my leg free from his hold as I stepped back.

He stayed there on the floor, staring at me as if he didn’t know me. Confusion softened his expression, but his jawline told me he was still clenching his teeth. “You did this? On purpose?”

I didn’t have to answer him. He deserved nothing from me. Yet it seemed impossible to say nothing when he was looking at me like that. As if he was physically in pain himself.

---