Page 69 of His Black Onyx

"No, huh?"

Much to my surprise, he throws the rope aside, unerringly tossing it on the bed before he reaches for me, grabbing me by the shoulders. I squirm on instinct, twisting and turning under his evasive touch, but even I know that my attempt is half-assed at best. I can't explain it, but he comforts me. As much as my heart has been speeding this whole time, as much as I fear all of this, him, the Covey, the things that lie ahead, when I'm this close to him, subjected to the impact of his warmth, it all diminishes. My pulse calms, and I breathe more regularly, almost relaxed.

"Why?" I murmur, barely audible. "Why are you doing this to me?"

My question is heavy with a weight he doesn't know about. He can't possibly understand what I'm asking, that my question is not just in regard to the cruelty he has shown me, but also in respect to my puzzled emotions.

I dare to look up at him, meeting his speckled gray gaze with a firmness that surprises me.

He doesn't give me a verbal response, but lets his hands speak instead. I find myself moving with him, following his lead as he glides down along the side of my body.

"Fine then," he says in an ominous whisper. "If you're not getting rid of these clothes—then I will do it for you."

I want to fend him off, but even the idea of protest is nipped in the bud when he rips the buttons off of my blouse.

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