Page 68 of Diamond In The Rough

I know he could easily kill me right now. He might.

He might even be justified.

But it’ll be worth it, to say my piece and be heard.

“You won’t ever hold a knife against my flesh again.” My hand shakes. Minimally. The tremor, almost invisible. But I feel it. As the sharp steel rests on his shaft and threatens to break skin, I’m brutally aware of how damaging a single clip could be.

“You hurt me the other night,” I rasp. “You scared me. And when I came home and found privacy, I locked myself away and wept because of what you did.”

I shake my head, short, sharp movements, as anger pulses in my veins. “You won’t do that again. You won’t hurt me again and live to tell the tale.”

“You threaten me?” His eyes flicker between mine, searching. For sense, maybe. For intent. “You argue your innocence by threatening me?”

“I don’t need to argue my innocence.” Firmly, I press my back to the cabinet and use it for balance as I straighten my legs.

My thighs protest and my knees quiver. My hand continues to shake. But I straighten my spine and swallow the heavy ball of nerves settled in my throat. “I never hurt you. I didn’t even know you. And yet, you decided I was guilty of a crime I hadn’t even committed. Now I’m setting us both straight.” I slide the edge of the blade, so very carefully, over his pulsing shaft, and draw blood to the surface.

He’s more susceptible, considering his current status.

“You will not hurt me again. Promise me.”

“Promise?” He laughs. Quick and mocking, the sound escapes as his eyes dance. “You think if I say the words, they’ll mean something? The second you release that blade, Tiia Hale, I would be within my rights to kill you.”

“Say the words,” I grit out. “And mean them.” I look down at my hands, at the thin line of crimson my sharp blade creates. “I never deserved your harsh words and bad treatment. I did nothing to harm you or your family.” Slowly, I bring my focus up again. “So now, I want you to say the fucking words and mean them.”

“I won’t hurt you again.” He grabs me by the throat, his thumb and fingers digging in as tears rush to the surface and make my eyes itch. But he pulls me closer, closer, and grins, as arrogant as the devil himself. “I promise.”

I toss the knife so it lands on the floor with a clatter. Then I cry out, because he drags me forward and slams his lips over mine.

Bruising lips and biting teeth. He carries a loose definition of ‘I won’t hurt you’, because his hands make my skin ache, his fingers cut into my airways, his teeth clamp down on my flesh: all hurts. But then he drops to his knees with surprising speed, yanking my shorts down as he goes, and suddenly, he’s a man, praying at the altar of me.

Fabric scrapes along my legs, so goosebumps sprint up to the base of my spine. Then he shoves my legs apart, his hands on my thighs, and his fingers digging in, marking my flesh like he wants to brand me.

“Micah…” My breath comes fast, panting and desperate, as he studies my pussy.

He stares. Enjoys. Gazes…

And when I’m not sure I can stand up beneath his scrutiny any longer, when I want to close my legs and run away, he surges forward and buries his tongue between my thighs.

My knees collapse instantly, my hands and back hitting the counter and scrambling to hold me up. “Shit!”

But Micah works magic with his tongue. He draws my release closer easily, bruising me where he holds me up. He sucks on my clit just as eagerly as I sucked on his thumb. And when my legs simply want to give out, he bites, chuckling when I gasp out loud.

“You taste sweeter than I expected.” He slips two fingers inside me and steals whatever air I’d secreted away. “You’ve got such a fucking attitude, I wasn’t sure you could ever be described as sweet.” He pushes up to his feet and slams his moist lips to mine, forcing me to taste my own desire. Sharing with me what he already knows.

“You’ve got this nasty, mean streak about you, Tiia Hale. You’re a black widow spider. And common sense tells me to turn my ass out of here and leave before you end my life.” He takes his fingers from my pussy, pleased when I cry out, but then he spins me and slams me to the counter, pressing me over it until my chest sits flat against the surface and my hands rest beside my ribs.

“Usually, I’m pretty good at following instinctual cues. If something feels unsafe, I remove myself and those I love.” He slaps my ass, the loud crack echoing throughout the apartment, and my cry of surprise following right after.

“I have never, in my entire life, made such a fucking effort to ignore my instincts.” He nestles his cock against my ass. The hard length, painful against my soft flesh. His unforgiving hips, poking into my backside. But then I hear the telltale sound of a condom wrapper. The crinkle of foil. The flutter of discarded trash flittering to the floor, beside my knife and our unbroken bottle of wine. “I have never so willingly danced with death and thought it pretty.”

“God.” I concentrate on breathing. On the expansion of my lungs, lifting my chest from the counter. My body, begging for the pleasure only he can deliver. My psyche, reacting to the snap of the condom as he settles it in place. Which probably hurts, because I cut him. “Micah.”

Smack!

He hits me again, breaking his vow to never hurt me. And yet, this is different. This pain is welcome. Coveted, even.

“You’re trouble for me, Tiia. You deny it, I know, and you present an innocent package.” He settles the head of his cock at my pussy and waits. Taunting and cruel. “You swear you’re not out to harm me or my family. But instinct has gotten me to this point safe and sound. In a world of war, my intuition has kept me alive, so it deserves to be respected.” He rubs a soothing hand over my backside. So tender. So sweet. “It deserves to be listened to.”

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