Page 85 of Keep You Close

“You keep saying that,” I said, finding my voice, surprised just how strong it sounded. Once I heard it, though, I wanted to keep talking. I wanted him to know he hadn’t broken me. That he would never break me. “Yet you haven’t laid a hand on me,” I said, my gaze slipping to his stomach where he had to have at least a small bit of pain.

Suddenly, I cursed myself for not aiming a bit lower. Between his legs. Even if it didn’t keep him down long, I figured that any attempts at rape would be thwarted by that kind of damage.

Well, there was still time, I assured myself.

I wasn’t going to go down without one hell of a fight.

“I’m just getting started,” he said, cocking his arm back, ready to strike.

I waited until the last second to duck, then swing out at the same time, the jug missing its mark of his face, and whacking off his collarbone.

Still, it had him staggering back enough to create an opening for me to rush around him.

I ducked under his arm and rushed forward, only to feel a blow land in my ribs, making my breath whoosh out of me, and sending a sharp pain up my side.

Joss was faster than I’d anticipated, rushing back to block the doorway, keeping me inside.

Adrenaline was coursing through my body, making me feel like I was buzzing, even as the pain throbbed in my side.

My gaze shot around the room, trying to rack my brain for what might be inside the cabinets.

Ear wipes. Nail clippers. Styptic powder. Waterless bath wipes. Brushes.

Scissors.

Scissors.

We kept scissors in the cabinet. For a situation like something getting stuck in a dog’s hair. We never used them, for fear of what the owners might say, but they were there, nestled in the second drawer. Within reach if I just inched over two or three feet.

“Come on. Try to get past me,” Joss invited, a sneer pulling at his lips.

I didn’t try to make the move seem unassuming.

I lunged at the drawer, yanking it open, then grabbing the scissors, holding them in my fist, my arm aloft, ready to strike out at any part of him that came close to me.

I watched as his amusement turned to anger as he watched me, as he realized just how much fight I had left in me.

He wasn’t a man who liked a challenge. He liked that I immediately gave in, that I didn’t try to fight back or even defend myself.

Maybe, for a moment, he liked that he would have to overpower me. But there was not a single bone in this man’s body that liked the idea that I could stab him if he got close.

He wanted a little cat and mouse.

Not realizing I’d grown some claws myself.

Sure, I wished I’d spent more time sharpening them, honing my self-defense skills. But, hey, if I didn’t have the skills, I could use what was available to me.

I inched closer to Joss, arm lifted, keeping a close eye on him, not wanting him to be able to grab my arm, to wrench the scissors from me.

God only knew what he might do with them in his possession.

He’d never really used weapons on me. Maybe, occasionally, whacking me with his beer bottle or hitting me with his belt. But he didn’t seem to go out of his way to find something to strike me with. He preferred his bare hands.

And he’d definitely never used anything sharp on me.

That didn’t mean, however, that I didn’t think he was capable if he was pissed enough.

And he sure seemed pissed now.

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