Page 3 of Vow of Vengeance

“No. Let’s do our other stuff. Don’t you want my mouth on you?” My hands go to his waist, tugging at the elastic band of his sweats. “You said I was good at it.”

He slides a hand up the front of my loose shirt. My skin dances under the brush of his fingertips.

“Nah, I wantyou.”

Reaching my bare breasts, he takes one nipple between his finger and thumb and pinches. Hard. Pain dips through me, pulsing between my thighs. He moves in to kiss me, his mouth hot with need.

I let him kiss me. I lose myself in the act momentarily, feeling warm and liquid-y. He pushes his tongue into my mouth, swiping his against mine, then going too deep, almost gagging me. He slips his hand down the front of my pajama pants, then he cups me, fingertips clumsily fumbling at my entrance.

I suddenly feel hot all over, but not in a good way—it’s a prickly heat that burns my face and the back of my neck. I break our kiss and pull away, shaking my head. “I don’t want this.”

“Come on.” He cups my breast in his palm. “You’ve been teasing me for so long. You owe me this.”

Loose and languid only a moment ago, his words make me tense. “Owe you what?”

His thumb circles my clit, and I find myself cringing. His words turn my stomach. “You owe methis.”

My virginity? “Because I gave you head a few times? I don’t think so.” I squirm away from his touch, but he doesn’t back away. Doesn’t take his hand out of my pants. He kisses my neck, beer-scented saliva on my skin. He nips at my nape too hard, sparking pain. I flatten my hands against his chest. “Come on,” I say. “I’m serious.”

His eyes lock on mine. “So am I.” He pushes a finger inside me roughly.

A gasp catches in the back of my throat. Something hot in his gaze feels off—determination fueled by desire. The prickly warmth of discomfort turns into a heatwave of panic.

He’s not letting me go.

Suddenly, I wish I wasn’t home alone tonight.

My heart thrums in my ears; my skin begins to feel clammy. My stomach twists in a sickening knot. This is not the Carter I know. How much alcohol did he have? I’ve heard it can make some people mean.

For the first time ever, I fear what first attracted me to him: his athletic frame.

“Give me what I need,” he demands.

He palms my other breast, his mouth back on my neck, hot and wet. His finger pushes deeper inside me. Despite my fear and unwillingness, my muscles clamp down around him.

I said no… right? Did I make myself clear? He accused me of teasing him, telling me I owe him. I hate myself for even asking this…

Idon’towe him anything… do I?

“Carter…” I trail off.

My bedroom door flies open. The metal door handle hits the wall behind it with a loud bang, echoing through the quiet room and jolting my body.

Carter’s hands quickly retreat from me.

In unison, we turn to face the doorway.

A tall, large, broad-shouldered stranger fills the threshold of my bedroom.

Despite the clench of his strong jawline, his expression is one of ease, a man in complete control. Dark hair and dark eyes. He’s dressed in a formal business outfit—a white dress shirt ironed with the starch Grandma uses on Grandpa’s church shirts, and dark, gray pants. The powerful look is completed with a black belt, polished shoes, and a black, satin tie.

I’m not good at guessing ages, but he’s much older than us.

Coolly, he slides his hands into his pockets. His gaze locks on Carter, and his voice is laced with danger. “You. Out.” When he speaks, Carter and I stand there, shocked and silent. I should be screaming for my mom, but something in his gaze holds me back.

The man continues, “Now.” The word feels like he’s dragging a rake over hot coals.

Carter looks from me to him, uncertainty flashing in his eyes. He’s trying to decide if he should make a break for it or if I’m worth fighting for.

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