Page 46 of Claimed By Rage

“Yeah. Of course.”

Walking away after the last twenty-four hours should be easy, but for some reason, walking away is even harder than standing still.

Chapter 14

Celia

I don’t seethe brothers for the next three days. At first, I think they’re avoiding me, but then I realize that they’re just good at hiding.

It’s on the third day that Rage’s patience wears out. A shadow falls across my desk at the boutique, and I look up from my sketch to find his massive frame blocking the light. Every muscle in his body is clenched tight. “Celia,” he rumbles, “you haven’t called.”

“I know.” I go back to my drawing, but my hand shakes. I barely scratch a single line before looking up again.

He’s still in my office.Waiting.

“You could text me.” He places his palms flat across my desk and leans closer. “Tell me about your day. Or night.” A thick vein in his forearm pulses in time with his heartbeat. His sleeves are rolled up, and I get a flashback to our last moments together.

This thing we have—fucking impossible to ignore.

I take a deep breath. “I don’t want to text you.”

He chews on his response for a minute. “Why not?”

Sighing, I set my colored pencil down and lean back in my chair. This is the same room where, less than a week ago, he’d pick me up, sit my ass on the edge of the desk, and eat me outuntil I couldn’t see straight. If I let my mind wander, I can still smell my desire and feel the rough pads of his fingers gripping my thighs.

But all that wandering will lead me right back into his grasp.

That’s not where I want to be.

I study Rage’s face. “Because you haven’t shown me someone worth my time.”

Thatpisses him off. He bares his teeth, looking every bit as menacing as I know he can be. I’ve witnessed the brutality of his fists—I know he could hurt me if he wanted to.

Our conversation from the other night echoes in my mind. I asked if he wanted to hurt me. Normal men would have said, “the last thing I want to do is hurt you.”

But Rage isn’t a normal man.

If that’s the only way I can touch you, then… yes.

I press my lips firmly together. I refuse to give in to his desires out of fear. If I let him touch me for any reason, he’ll interpret it as me giving in because Iwantto. He’ll think that I might actuallywantto be with him.

Something twinges inside my chest. I clench my teeth to block it out. Idon’twant to be with him. Or any of them. Not when they’re only pretending to care about what I want.

This sudden “freedom of choice” they’ve given me? It’s an illusion.

But I’ll ride it out as long as I can.

My words are clipped. “Are we done, yet? You’re blocking the light.” I grip my pencil harder to hide my shaking hand. “I’m on a deadline. I can’t have any distractions.”

That part is true, at least.

“We areneverdone,krosotka.” Rage reaches over the desk and pinches my chin, forcing me to meet his eyes. “But I’ll let you pretend for a little longer. That’s how generous I am.”

“Great. Thanks for stopping by.”

As he’s leaving the boutique, my employee Sara walks in for the start of her shift. “Oh, hey!” She smiles, but Rage ignores her. What anasshole.

Sara laughs awkwardly, the bells over the door chiming along with her. They both dwindle out at the same time. Once she’s sure no one else is around, she joins me in the back. “Are you guys fighting?”

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