Page 38 of They Break Beauty

I caught her hand before she could and her gaze snapped to mine.

“Why do you think I have this tattoo that matches the design of your pendant?”

She stared at me for a moment, before answering all matter-of-fact and coldly, “A lot of people have those tattoos.”

I scoffed. “You really think you can put it down to a mere coincidence?”

“What else would it be?”

“You know very well.”

She snatched her hand back. “All I know is that you had me lured here via Colton under the guise of the duet and helping my friend out as part of the deal, that you think you made some sort of connection to me at that party. So, with that in play, the only deduction I can make is that you’ve become unduly and very quickly obsessed, you noticed that I wear this necklace all the time, and you had this inked as a result of that obsession.”

“It’s not freshly inked. Weak try, Wildflower.”

“I’m not your wildflower.”

I took a seat beside her—right beside her—so that my pants brushed against her bare thighs. “Oh, but you are.”

“I’m not your anything,” she insisted. “And that’s part of the reason I agreed to come here—and to help out Chloe. That’s all. To tell you to back off before things go any further and become unpleasant for us both.”

“Unpleasant? Hmm, no, we certainly don’t want that, do we? Well, you don’t. I do well with unpleasantness.”

“Is that a threat?”

“I only issue threats when they’re absolutely needed. Otherwise they lose all meaning. And they’re not going to be needed here, are they, Brianna? You’re going to give me what I want now you’ve had time to digest it all, aren’t you?” I sidled closer to her and stroked a finger down her cheek. “You’re going to be my good girl, yes?”

A stilted breath escaped her at my touch.

“Well?” I pushed, adding my thumb to the mix and softly stroking her jaw too.

Her eyes fluttered closed for a moment and I could feel her heat, see that need there sparking to life. For me.

But then she went to pull my hand away.

I held fast, not allowing it.

“Stop. I’m not…”

“You’re not what? A good girl? Well, I do know there’s a lot more to you than that.”

“Not yours.”

I ground my teeth at her continuing to play hardball.

It had me forcing her hand to the side of my neck, right over my scar. “You know where and how this came about. Admit it.”

“Stop it,” she said, slapping my hand away, then scrambling to her feet.

She snatched the water bottle off the coffee table and screwed off the lid, taking a couple of big gulps as she backed away to the other side of the room.

“You stop it,” I snapped.

All my patience, all this time I’d put into this thing, and she couldn’t offer up anything in return? No. It was bullshit. I wasn’t having it.

It had me storming over to her, grasping her arms and slamming her up against the wall, crowding her with my body.

“You were there! Six years ago, you were there! Fucking well admit it!”

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