Page 171 of Collided

She begs me with her eyes. “Door.”

Bullshit.

“I didn’t know a door could have fucking hands.”

She slips from my hold and puts distance between us.Not fucking good.

“I need to go.”

I block her path. “We need to talk—”

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

I take a step forward and she takes one backward. It continues until her back hits the desk and she has nowhere to go. Putting my hands on either side of her waist, I trap her. Her fingers tighten around the book but her eyes stare at my chest.

“Will you please look at me?” I ask, lowering my voice.

Hope tilts her head back and meets my gaze for a second, then looks away.

Deciding to put an end to this bullshit, I lift my hand to tip her chin, but she flinches.

Tremors shake her body as her hands shield her face.

Stunned, I push back from her.

My brain short circuits.

For fuck’s sake.

Someone is physically abusing her.

I was right.

“You thought I was going to hurt you,” I grit out.

The shock makes my breathing stutter.

Her teary eyes and heaving chest make my knees weak.

Everything in me wants to step closer, but I know it’ll set her off in the worst way possible. She’ll think of me as a threat and try to escape—

Too fucking late.

Side-stepping me, she rushes out of the room, while I stand there and watch.

I can catch her.

But I don’t.

In the evening, I arrive at the underground, burning with the desire to fight someone.

My mind can’t rest. I’m certain I’ve lost it with how irritated I am tonight.

My opponent lands a few sloppy hits on me, pulling my attention to him.

Usually, the shouts and cheers of raging men are a blur when I’m in the ring. My opponent is the only thing I can focus on. Tonight, that’s not the case.

When he aims for my stomach, a dull ache permeates there.

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