Page 77 of Make Me Yours

Mercy is in short supply these days.

And Weaver isn’t a man known for sparing anyone—his enemies, his friends, or anything in between.

He proves that by burying himself deep before he comes, pumping me full of that baby-making material he was so damned determined to keep to himself just a few days ago. He pins my hips to the ground, even when I try to wiggle away, forcing me to take every bit of his release, muttering, “Mine, you’re fucking mine,” as his cock continues to jerk deep inside me.

And once again, I’m flooded with shame.

Because I like it,loveit. I want him to pin me down and make me take everything he has to give over and over again because he’s that deep under my skin.

So deep I’m doubting everything I’ve ever known and lying in a sobbing heap beneath the man who ruined so many lives.

“Don’t,” he says, brushing my tears tenderly from my face. “Don’t cry, baby. Did I hurt you? I didn’t mean?—”

“Is this what you did to my mother?” I ask, the words out before I can stop them.

His brows shoot up. “What?”

Tears coming faster, I force out, “Did you get her pregnant on purpose? Or was it an accident?”

His face pales as he pulls out and rolls onto his side next to me on the hard floor. “What are you talking about?”

I drag the back of my arm across my face, wincing as I feel his come slipping from between my legs. “Steven heard Aunt Cathy talking to my mom when we were kids. Not long after Mom left town. She was pregnant, and asked Cathy if she knewanyone who might want to adopt a baby. Someone out of town, obviously, since she didn’t want any of the other Sullivans to know. She said she couldn’t leave the baby with Dad because…it wasn’t his. It was yours.”

He scowls and shakes his head. “Jesus. She’s fucking insane.”

I move my arm, peering up at him. His shock looks genuine, but how can I know for sure? My mother was pregnant by someone, and she and my father hadn’t shared a bedroom in a long time at that point. Dad started sleeping on the couch when I was in first grade.

“So, you’re saying she was stepping out on my father with someone other than you?”

“I have no idea,” he says, indignation creeping in to banish the shock on his features. “I barely knew your mother, and I certainly didn’t get her pregnant, Sully. I told you the truth. We kissed a few times, that’s it. It was nothing, especially compared to this.” He curls his hand around my thigh, his fingers digging into my skin. “Like I said, we shouldn’t be fighting each other, we should be fightingforeach other.”

I swallow past the knot in my throat. “How can I believe you?” I sit up, looking for my camisole, then decide to forget it and go straight to pulling on my sweater before reaching for my panties and sweatpants.

He huffs as he stands, hitching up his own pants. “How can you not? I’ve never lied to you. Your family are the ones who lie. Your mother and your cousin, Chris, and God knows who else.”

“Chris and I aren’t close, and I know he’s not the best person,” I say as I stand beside him, feeling the need to make that clear. “But Steven, the person who told me all this, is a good guy. And the baby isn’t the only secret he overheard when he was eavesdropping as a kid.”

Weaver crosses his arms, his Ice Prince glare in full effect as he says, “Please, tell me what’s next. I can’t wait to defend myselffrom more insane gossip spread by a bored old woman and a child.”

“He said…” I pause, not wanting to say the next part aloud. If it’s true, he’s not the person I thought he was. “He said there was a rumor going around town that not long after you beat up my dad, you almost killed a man in New York. With your bare hands. For no reason.”

“There was a reason,” he says, making my stomach twist with dread. “He put his hand up my friend’s skirt.”

I blink, that’s bad, but not self-defense. Or a reason to do what I heard he did. “Okay, but…they said he ended up in the hospital afterward, Weaver. That you beat him so badly that he almost died and your dad had to pay off a bunch of people to keep you from going to prison. They said the guy almost lost an eye and had to drop out of college afterward because he couldn’t play sports anymore.”

As soon as the words are out, I know it’s true.

It’s written right there, in the shame on Weaver’s face.

“Oh my God,” I whisper, my hand coming to grip my throat as I shake my head back and forth. “Oh my God, Weaver.”

“I told you there was an incident when I went back to the city.”

“Not an incident where you almostkilledsomeone,” I say, shoving my feet back into my boots. “And not where your father had to bribe people to keep you out of prison. What about all your big talk about consequences? Are those just for other people? But when you destroy someone’s life, it’s okay?”

“I told you. He assaulted my friend. It’s no excuse for what I did, but?—”

“You’re right, it’s not.” I move toward my sling, but Weaver is already there, snatching it off the floor.

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