Page 51 of Wicked Sins

Josiah twists my hand. The scissors clatters to the floor by our feet as I gasp in pain. Then, still gripping my wrist, he pinches my jaw between thumb and forefinger, forcing my head up.

“You’re such a beauty.” Venom coats his words and lends fierce lights to his eyes as he glares down at me. “Anyone would be lucky to call you their darling.”

A sour taste slips into my mouth. It’s too close to what Mom said. Too close to those revelations I wish I’d never heard; wish I could forget.

I lift my knee, but he twists away before I make contact. My hoody slips down my shoulders and gathers in the crook of my elbows.

The light in his eyes becomes predatory.

I’m only wearing a vest beneath the hoody. I’d been in my room the whole day anyway—no need to dress up. But as soon as Josiah shoves his hand up my shirt, I wish I’d taken the time to put on a bra. It could have been another layer of defense, a barrier he’d have to get past.

Instead, my nipple hardens the instant he slides his palm over my breast. “Yeah, fight me,” he drawls, and then laughs. “Guys like it when you do that, don’t they?”

I tear my wrist free and fumble behind me for something to hurt him with. I’m distantly aware that Emma’s sobbing, but Josiah’s smug fucking face is all that matters.

But there’s nothing behind me. Nothing I can use to defend myself.

I twist and surge away, heading for the wooden block of chef’s knives a few feet away.

Josiah grabs my vest in his fist. There’s a loud rip. Cool air washes over my skin.

I let out a muted scream of rage as I struggle to get out of his grip. My hoody falls to the floor. When I spin around to punch out at him, he rushes into me and pins me against the kitchen counter.

Light flashes over his teeth as he snarls at me. With another hard tug, my vest tears in two and falls on the floor. I try to cover myself with my hands, but he knocks my arms aside with pathetic ease.

“Jo, no! No!” a tiny hand appears and grabs hold of Josiah’s bunching arm.

He blinks, seeming to come back to himself with effort.

That’s when I see the dark shape looming in the kitchen entrance.

Josiah’s father.

I slap my arms over my chest, a sob wrenching free as bright hot humiliation envelops me.

“Is this what you two get up to when we’re gone?”

Josiah steps back, lifts his hands. I take a chance and drop to all fours, snatching my hoody from the floor. My fingers are shaking so hard, it’s almost impossible for me to get my arms into the sleeves.

I shoot to my feet the same instant Mr. Bale backhands Josiah.

It’s as if that sound silences everything in the world for just a moment.

Emma rushes at her dad and hugs his waist, burrowing her head into his stomach. “No, no, no!”

Wayne shoves her away so hard, she falls onto her butt.

I scramble over to her, zipping up my hoody on the way, and hug her to my chest when she bursts into tears.

If my legs hadn’t been rubber, I’d have taken her out of the room.

Instead, I just scoot away until my back thumps into the island, trapping us both.

Morbid fascination keeps my eyes wide and glued on the scene that plays out a few feet away, but I press Emma’s face into my breasts, making sure she doesn’t see a thing.

Josiah curls back an arm, but he doesn’t get a chance to land a blow.

His father grabs the front of his sweater, lifts Josiah, and tosses him to the other side of the room.

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