Page 95 of Winter's End

I made small talk with them for a few minutes, though I scanned the room every thirty seconds, hoping Travis, Logan,or Hillary would come around the corner at any minute and relieve me of a fraction of my building anxiety.

Guests were now being led into the adjacent dining room for dinner, and I caught sight of Hillary’s golden dress in the fray.

“Thank you for keeping me company.” I gave Mom and Dad a peck on the cheek and quickly weaved between the hungry partiers to catch Hillary before she disappeared beyond the double doors.

Travis was still nowhere to be seen.

A large hand clamped around my bicep in the chaos, and I was pushed through the crowd into a dimly lit corridor just off to the side of the ballroom. My assailant held me in an iron grip bordering on painful; with each step, they squeezed me harder.

I couldn’t wrench around to see their face, but the familiar scent of sea air and amber flooded my nostrils, causing my pulse to skyrocket.

The sound of the large wooden door slamming shut behind us was the final nail in the coffin. Carson Baker spun me around and pressed me into the wall.

The hallway was silent, save for my ragged breaths. My tormentor loomed over me, his face mimicking a hungry jungle cat who’d just cornered his prey.

I wouldn’t cower in front of him and give him the satisfaction, though I was sure my jugular was pulsating, my heart was hammering so hard.

I willed myself to control my frantic lungs while Carson hungrily appraised me. His build was like Logan’s, tall and thin, but enough to fully lock me in.

Where Logan wore his arrogance like a protective shield, Carson wore his like a sharpened sword.

“You look stunning this evening, Winter,” he purred, lowering his head to brush his lips over the shell of my ear. “I’ve been just waiting for the chance tosnap you up.”

His words were dripping with dark intent, and I wasn’t strong enough to mask the shiver of fear that swept through me. Why wouldn’t this man leave me the fuck alone?

“What do you want, Carson?” I asked; my voice far steadier than the chaos of my insides. “Haven’t you learned not to fuck with me yet?”

He forcefully yanked up my chin. As I stared into his blown pupils, his gloating smile morphed into a hateful sneer.

“You don’t have anyone here to protect you now, you dirty slut. Did you really think you’d be the one who got away?”

So, I was a trophy to him. There were few things more repulsive than a man who believed he had a right to a woman’s body. I was terrified, and disgusted, and filled with shame. I was simply a name on a list—a twisted list of innocent women who’d gotten caught up in Carson’s charms.

Before I could knee him in the balls, which my brain clamored to do, my body betrayed me by remaining frozen. Carson spun me around and slammed me into the decorative wainscoting.

His body heat threatened to smother me as his swollen erection ground into my back. He dropped his hands to my hips and grazed my thighs with his palms.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.Think,Winter.

Carson was a sociopath; a serial rapist. I had been lucky to get away the first time; if I didn’t fight harder, I wouldn’t have the same outcome tonight.

I ignored Carson’s revolting touch for a microsecond, scouring my mind for something I could use.

Cam’s lessons. He had taught me how to get out of a hold from behind. This wasn’t the same thing, but it was all I could think of as Carson’s fingers tried to cup my pussy from the outside of my dress.

I relaxed my body, going limp in his arms. When he struggled to hold up my dead weight, he stepped back just enough to give me an inch or two. Dropping to the floor, I turned, which put my face at crotch level, but it was the perfect height. I bucked up and headbutted him in the nuts.

It was the closest I would get to his private jewels ever again.

“Fuck!” Carson swore and dropped to his knees. I scrambled out of the way with an awkward crab walk. “Bitch!”

He clawed at the train of my dress, tearing the fabric but managing a strong enough hold to keep me in place. I army-crawled along the carpeted floor on my elbows as the train completely ripped in two. My relief was short-lived. His long fingers wrapped around my ankle and pulled me backward.

The carpet burned my knees, but that slight pain was the least of my worries.

My scalp caught fire when Carson fisted my French braid and hauled me back hard against his chest. I tried in vain to elbow him, but his other arm came around me like a steel band.

“You’re not going anywhere until I’m done with you.”

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