Page 18 of Raw & Vulnerable

She doesn’t really know him or what he’s done. Clarity hits her painfully.

Wanting to get him to stop trying to pressure her, Minnie asks the one thing that she knows is going to bother him, hoping it will get him to back off, “Are you going to tell me why you went to prison?”

Gage stills. Like a snake, or a wounded animal. He meets her eyes in the mirror, an angry, hurt expression in his sharp eyes. Still holding her gaze, he flatly says, “So, that’s what this is about? You think you’re better than me because I spent over a decade in the damn slammer?”

Deep down, shedoesthink she’s better than him. Minnie knows that’s not an appropriate answer, so she doesn’t reply.

“That’s it? I can look and play a bit, but not good enough to fuck, yeah?” His tone is turning ugly, dangerous. Something inside of Minnie twists, desire a sick thing in her body. “Maybe if I was a nice, boring guy, with a nice boring record, you wouldn’t be so hesitant. But I’m not nice, and my record isn’t boring.”

“Maybe I’m scared of you,” she whispers, head ducking down between her shoulders slightly. Frankly, she is, the emotion fueling adrenaline in her blood. She’s been sheltered from men like this most of her life, aside from the one horrid encounter that changed her forever.

Something similar to hurt flashes in his rough gaze, as if it bothers him that she’d feel that way about him. Then, his gaze goes cold again, as if he’s reminded himself that they aren’t anything alike, they come from totally different worlds and just maybe he batted far above his class this time.

“You should be,” he says harshly before letting her go. “But I already told you I wouldn’t harm you.”

He leaves her there, standing in the bathroom alone. Minnie takes a few moments to collect herself, feeling a mix of shame and humiliation that she let herself get in this situation with a man she barely knows, let alone a man that’s got a criminal history.

Splashing water on her face miserably, Minnie forces herself to leave the bathroom, feeling like everyone can see what transpired on her face. Written across her forehead or maybe even the slight stain on her jeans.

Her sister is artfully sitting at the bar alone, drinking water, as if waiting for Minnie. Ariel gives her a sly look. “You ready to go now?”

“Y-yes.”

As they walk out the front of the bar to the car, Ariel tosses her another look. “If you think I didn’t see that, you have another thing coming. You’ll tell me all about it, that’s the rules.”

Aghast, stomach twisting, Minnie asks what she’s referring to.

“You boned that dude in the bathroom! Mouse, girl, you arenasty!” Ariel looks ridiculously pleased, the opposite of what Minnie expected. “I didn’t think you had it in you, because wow, he was something else, you showed meup. Damn.”

“I didn’t! I mean, not really…”

Cackling, Ariel starts the car. “You dog. I never would have guessed you would be interested in a guy that looks like he’s done time. Not really your thing, considering, well, your issues with criminals and all.”

Alcohol rots sickly in the pit of Minnie’s stomach.

Chapter 8

After that incident, Minnie fortunately doesn’t see him for a few days.

The morning after, she’s mortified by the prospect of even going into work, so she calls off sick like an absolute coward, spending most of her day moping around the house, hating herself and her traitorous body.

How could she just let him touch her like that? Why did she like it? Nothing about him is safe and sweet; he’s hard, foul-mouthed, and has a certain mean streak that she’s seen in his eyes time and time again.

Ariel is no help.

Over cereal, she points her spoon at Minnie. “So, is this you coming to terms with your life and all? I mean, you used to poop your pants when someone looked at you the wrong way. Now look at you; getting finger banged by rough ass dudes in public restrooms. What is it about him? I’m not blaming you but, I mean, what if he’s a criminal? He had that kinda…I don’t know…aurahanging about him. Trouble. Those guys he was sitting with were like, just as bad.”

It doesn’t make Minnie feel any better.

“By the way,” Ariel asks around her mouthful of cereal. “Aren’t you supposed to be at work?”

Returning to the safety of her bedroom, Minnie doesn’t think about his fingers and the way he stroked her with skill. She absolutely doesn’t let her mind drift to his thick cock, or the glittering beads that scream pain and pleasure. She certainly doesn’t mourn the fact that she thinks no one will ever compare, no one will match the feeling of danger and desire in the same sort of way.

It’s something she feels for him exclusively. Something in his hazel eyes, that glittering darkness mixed with light streaks of green, something that says he’s capable of terrible things, but that he isn’t going to be terrible to her.

It almost feels like adrenaline, like having a gun pressed to her skull, like staring up at faceless men clothed in all black from head to toe, like she’s being pulled under by a tide she can’t control. Wild emotions, dangerous emotions, burning her from the inside out.

I’m a mess and I can’t stop

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