Page 136 of Wicked Proposal
“No gloves.” This time, his tone is final. “Or else?—”
“You’ll throw yourself to the floor and scream like a toddler.” Angry, I dump the gloves. “Don’t worry, I got your memo.”
Then I pick up Brad’s wrist.
And my hands start shaking.
Stop,I bark inwardly.Stop that. Don’t let him see.
Don’t let him get to you.
But it’s useless. The memories are too strong. My body’s stuck in fight-or-flight response, waiting for the blow to land. For that hand to escape my hold and just?—
“You’re looking a little pale,” he comments.
“I’m fine.” It’s a lie. “There’s nothing wrong with your wrist.”
He hums, considering it. “Then the pain must be coming from somewhere else.”
Without warning, he grabs my hand and moves it to his crotch.
I snatch it away. My elbow hits the supply cart, toppling it in the process.
Everyone in the room turns to stare at me.
“Nurse Winters?” Gwen asks, half-glaring from behind a stack of patient charts. “Everything alright?”
“Yes,” I lie through gritted teeth. “Sorry. I just—tripped.”
“You should pick those up,” Brad drawls, eyeing the scattered mess of supplies all over the floor of Bay C. “Unless you want someone else to trip over them.”
Hot, burning humiliation courses through me.
Without a choice, I crouch and start picking up everything.
“Not like that,” Brad murmurs, a dark, heated edge to his words. “Kneel.”
My old defense mechanisms try to kick back into gear.Do as he says. Stay calm, shut up, wait for it to be over.
It always hurts worse when you fight.
But something’s changed. For some reason, those old boundaries that kept me safe back at Montauk are starting to chafe.
Now, my pulse isn’t racing out of fear, but out of fury.
I wonder if it’s because of Yulian.
When he stopped Brad at the wedding, he wasn’t scared. When he faced him again at StarTech, he wasn’t scared, either.
So why should I be?
Because you’re not as strong. Because you’ve been hurt before.
Because you’re hiding his son.
“No need,” I rasp, forcing the words past the lump in my throat. “I’m done.”
Brad’s dark eyes fix on me. Thoughtful, considering. “You’ve changed,” he observes.
