Page 31 of Burn With Me

Now, as the bottom of my comforter moves ever so slightly, I know that I wasn’t.

Eric Wood—my mother’s newest husband—slowly, carefully, takes a seat at the end of my bed. I can barely make out his shape with my narrowed eyes.

Go away, I beg silently. He must not realize I’m awake yet because he just sits there, watching me. His gaze is locked on me and even though I can’t make out his shadowed expression, I can see the movement of his arm as his hand goes to the place between his legs.

What do I do? What the fuck am I supposed to do?She’s been married so many times, but nothing like this has ever happened. None of them even so much as glanced my way. They just pretended I didn’t exist until the divorce papers were thrown in someone’s face, usually theirs.

Eric has been different from the start, though. I’ve always noticed the way his eyes lingered on me. The low touches on my back as I moved past him at some function or another. I’d never felt comfortable being alone with him.

Why is he here?I want to ask the universe. It’s a dumb question. I know exactly why a man like him would come to his fifteen-year-old stepdaughter’s room in the middle of the night. The real question I want to ask is—why me?

Eric bends low until I can feel his hot breath on my face. I squeeze my eyes shut, feeling ice trail throughout my body. It’s childish, but I can’t help but hope if I keep my eyes and mouth shut, pretending like I’m sleeping, he’ll get up and leave.

A sinking sense of dread tells me that I’m only lying to myself, though. Just like how I lied and told myself that I didn’t see his looks or feel those small “innocent” touches. That I was out of my mind to think that he would—

I gasp when his hand slides beneath the sheets and touches my bare thigh.

“I knew it,” Eric whispers in a low voice. “You’re awake.”

No use in hiding it now. I throw back the covers and scramble across the bed as fast as I can. A hard hand locks on my ankle and stops my escape.

“Stop!” A hand slaps over my mouth, keeping the shout muffled.

“Don’t scream,” he growls. “You don’t want to disturb your mother, do you?”

I do, though. I so fucking do. If Marcus were here—if he weren’t at that stupid college we dropped him off at last month, then I’d go for him, but he’s not here now. He can’t save me. I have to save myself.

I offer a muffled protest under his hand, but all that makes him do is press down harder. My eyes widen and I realize the actual predicament. I was stupid to think he would just come in and get up and leave if he thought I didn’t wake up at his entry.

Why did I do that?I ask myself. The answer is simple—because I want to pretend. I wanted him to leave and then I wanted to wake up the next morning and pretend like it was all a bad dream.

Well, it’s not,I chastise myself.It’s happening. So, do something!

I struggle against his grip, yanking my head to the side. “Get off me!” I yell.

Eric huffs out an annoyed sound and then the rush of air hits me a split second before the flat of his palm slams into the side of my face. I freeze, shock rocketing through me.Did he just … hit me?

I don’t have a second to react. Eric’s slap is still at the forefront of my mind. It strikes me stupid because I don’t even feel his hands moving to my sleep shirt, jerking it up and over my head until the wash of cool air hits my chest.

My body begins to tremble. Starting from somewhere deep within me and then moving outward into each of my limbs until my whole body is shaking with the movements. Eric doesn’t seem to take any notice. Something escapes my throat—a whimper? A cry? I’m not sure. My ears aren’t working right. Instead, there’s nothing but a dull ringing. At least, until he speaks again.

“Shut up, you dumb little whore.” Each word is vicious, a knife to my throat, stopping me from protesting. “I know you want this. Stop acting like a good, innocent little girl.” My lips part, but nothing comes out. He keeps talking. “Walking around in those tight little tank tops and shorts…” His words drift off as he sits back and takes in what he’s revealed.

Tears break free and slide down my face. The side of my face that he struck is on fire. Each tear that slips over that cheek feels like it’s scraping raw flesh. I sniff hard. “No,” I say through gritted teeth. It’s a protest to both him and to myself. I can’t let this happen. I can’t just lay here and take it. I’m not that kind of girl. I’m not the kind of girl who doesn’t fight back. I’m—

Eric’s hands grip my wrists and slam them down over my head. He’s a big man, but I didn’t realize how big until now. It’s not surprising, though. Like most of my mother’s husbands, Eric has a past in something active. He’s an ex-pro-athlete turned businessman, and it’s clear by the strain in my muscles and the complete and utter lack of anything happening that he’s never skipped his workouts.

Fear slams into my body, and I buck under his weight. “No!” I snap. “No! Get off of me!”

Another slap hits my other cheek, but I don’t care. I open my mouth, fully intending to scream. Even if Marcus isn’t here, my mother is. We don’t get along, but she would never let this happen to me. She wouldn’t let him—

Eric’s hand cups over my mouth, stifling the scream. He appears over me; the moonlight hitting his face at just the right angle so that I can see the violent expression on his face.

“Keep screaming, Aurora,” he growls. “And I’ll do so much worse than I’m planning.”Worse than what he’s planning?I think.What can be worse than rape?As if he senses the directions of my thoughts, he grins, revealing perfectly white teeth.

When I was a kid, I always thought monsters would be ugly, but he’s not. There’s a reason my mother married him. He’s tall. He’s fit. He’s handsome.

And he’s all over me and I think I’m going to fucking puke.

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