Page 21 of Locke

I went limp after several agonizing minutes, once again feeling my body mould into his giant form. He was so warm, and it was still raining, and around me was the scent of him, of the rain, of the soil and my sweat. His warmth seeped into my bones, and I fell into that cloud of comfort for a few moments to rebuild my strength.

Seeming to think I’d given up, his arms loosened around me as his lips skirted along my face. I felt him peering down at me in the darkness, like he could see me clearly.

“We’re going to get up,” he spoke now. “I’m going to take you to my car—”

I fought once more, this time managing to slide off his body. He didn’t even try to close his arms back around me. He watched me quickly crawl away, and just when I was about to climb back to my feet, he lunged at me. His hands grabbed at my arms and pulled me back, and suddenly I was on my back with an oomph, and he was over me. I kicked at him, but his legs immediately trapped mine together, forcing me still. I smacked at his face next, but his hands grabbed at each of mine and pinned them over my head, and then there we were: his gigantic body over mine, forcing me still beneath him.

“Give it up,” he told me.

“Go to hell,” I retorted.

“Baby, where the fuck do you think I’m from?”

I screamed bloody murder, hoping in the off chance that someone might be driving by, that they might hear me. I bucked beneath him, going absolutely nowhere, and now I was panicking, feeling constricted and helpless.

“Give it up,” he repeated, dropping his face over mine to peer into my eyes. “Come on, let go, little lion. Let go.”

My body gave out again and I went completely limp. Shivering, teeth chattering, eyes red with unshed tears. I refused to cry, but maybe he wouldn’t see them in the rain. Maybe I could keep being strong to the very end—

But he knew.

He let go of one hand and swiped at my face with his thumb, brushing them away as they finally broke free like a burst dam. I hated that I closed my eyes to his gentle touch. That I turned my head to his hand so that he could cup my cheek and just hold it there. His breath shifted, picked up, his face dropping further, until I felt those breaths against my mouth. I felt him watch me, but I didn’t open my eyes.

I existed in this strange, warm bubble, half cold, half wet, the other half defeated, my life completely in the hands of someone else, and you know what? It felt fucking nice not to have all that responsibility anymore. I’d let him dictate how many more breaths I could drag into my lungs. I was tired of doing that myself. Because every inhale and every exhale reminded me that we don’t always get to make it out of situations like these, and those people—so fiercely loved— are gone forever, and all we have are the painful memories, the harsh reminder that it was good once.

I opened my eyes to peer at the monster above me. He stared down at me still, never taking his eyes off mine. “Tell me your name.”

“Get fucked,” I said, but it was weak, tired.

He smiled coldly, and with the blood spatter on his face, he looked fucking horrifying. “Just give it up already.”

“Never.”

“It’s better if you did.”

“I’m dead anyway.”

“Perfect reason to let go, wouldn’t you say?”

I just stared at the gorgeous bastard. How could someone this beautiful be such a fucking demon? Where were the warts and big gut? Where was the receding hairline and coke bottle glasses? Where was the creepy voice and desperate vibe? The movies had lied to me. Then again, I should have been whimpering and sobbing and begging for my life, and I did none of that, either.

We were a bizarre duo.

I stared at his mouth, tracing the lines with my eyes. His voice was delectable, sure, but fuck me, his mouth was a whole new ballgame altogether. And as I lay helplessly beneath him, staring at his mouth like they were the second coming of Christ, it occurred to me that I could do just what he said. I could let go…

I lifted my head and brushed my lips against his. His grip on my hands tightened painfully, and then his free hand shot up, gripping me by the throat. He pulled back, glaring down at me now with anger/shock/confusion. It was hard to know what this guy was feeling, but I knew anger was one of them.

“Don’t provoke me, woman,” he growled.

But I shut him up again, kissing him, but coming just short of reaching his lips because his hand squeezed at my throat, forcing me down. A light moan escaped my lips as I felt the air leave my lungs and the pressure build behind my eyes. I tried to move my hips, tried to grind myself against this man’s giant cock—

“You’re fucking insane,” he snarled at me.

I just smiled at him, and he stared at that smile like his whole world didn’t make sense. His brows came together. “You’re bad, little lion,” he stated, suddenly, his heavy lidded gaze intensifying. “Fucking wild, too. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Nothing,” I said. “Everything. Take your pick.”

“What’s your name?”

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