Page 33 of Degrading Her

“Fiona,” Sawyer said, his voice low. His eyes traced down my dress and I blushed, my nipples hardening under his gaze. I thanked the universe that the dress was ruched, probably hiding my reaction. I hated my body for reacting like it did around him. It didn’t make sense. And yet, I was pulled toward him every time.

He had hurt someone. It was supposed to be disgusting. Even frightening.

But he did it for me.

“You didn’t have to do that,” I said.

He ignored my statement, nodding to the rest of his men, then his full attention swung back to me. My skin perspired, the room spinning.

“That was obnoxious,” I tried again, my words slurring.

“He was obnoxious,” Sawyer muttered.

“You think you can force your way into anything, don’t you?” I hissed.

Sawyer looked down his nose at me. “He tried to take what’s mine.”

Mine?

I balled my fists. Was he calling mehis?Or was he just claiming my pussy? It was such a stupid thing to even think about, but both ways made me either want to punch him in the face for thinking he could own me, or for thinking I couldn’t handle myself.

Or maybe I wanted to punch myself for being so resistant. Maybe I wanted to thank him. Because that guywashuge.

What had gotten into me?

Maybe it was Sawyer’s fault. He had this strange effect on me.

And he wasn’t getting off of the hook now.

“What is up with you?” I asked.

“You’re the one fighting meatheads at a nightclub,” he said.

Fighting?I could show him fighting.

I swung my fist forward, and he stepped out of the way. I tripped, but he caught me, holding me in his strong grasp. He grinned. The smug bastard.

Once I was standing, I shook my head. “Incredible,” I said. I faced the exit and Sawyer grabbed my arm.

“Where are you going?” he asked.

“Home,” I said. Erica could get a ride home from Bambi or Maisie. She didn’t need me here.

“You’re under the influence,” he said, walking behind me. Why was he so obsessed with my state of intoxication? “You can’t?—”

I pushed through the crowd of people. “Then I’ll call a cab,” I snapped.

The cold air rushed forward, enveloping me in a crisp breeze. I sucked in a breath, letting it refresh me. But my stomach twisted, and I held myself. All I had to do was get to my car. Be alone. Then I could call a cab. Sawyer was right.Mr. Feldman.

I stomped toward my car. Footsteps clicked onto the pavement behind me. My eyes landed on a folded piece of paper stuck under the windshield wipers of my car. I opened it.

Fiona Ross. Age 26. Master’s candidate at Pacific State University, Pierce Satellite Campus. Dropped out of Heritage Bay College of Medicine. Will probably drop out of PSU-P too.

My pulse skyrocketed. What kind of sick joke was this? I crumpled the paper in my hands. It had to be Sawyer. He had to be messing with me. I dropped the paper, tears burning my eyes. Then a spasm rocked through me.

Every drink came out in a yellow mess on the floor.

A hand landed on my back, another fist swiping up to hold my hair.

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