Page 64 of Somebody's Watching Me
The move wasn’t new, but something was different. His voice had changed, and fighting against the tightening vice around her neck, she dug her nails into his hand.
“Liam, stop!”
But he didn’t stop.
“You want a baby, don’t you?” Before she could tell him no, she was shoved forward and dragged up on all fours. “This is how we make a baby.”
“Stop.” The slap of his body into hers mixed with her pleas. “I don’t want this!”
“You want a family. This is how it works. This is how I give you what you want. Love. A baby. All of it. I’ll be the one to do it.”
His fingers twisted in her hair, yanking her head around to face him.
“Me,” Michael Sinclar grunted as he finished inside her. “Not Liam.”
Chapter 16
She ran from him.
Flailing and screaming, she woke from the nightmare in time to see Liam half-fall out of the corner chair and rush over.
His attempt to calm the situation was lost on her waking mind, and she darted into the bathroom, slamming the door shut. Dropping onto the floor, the cold, hard tile brought reality flooding back, and laying there, she slowly came out of her daze.
“Open up.”
Rising to a sitting position, she flipped the lock, and Liam inched his head through the crack in the door. “Can I come in?”
Unable to answer, she nodded, and he stepped inside to crouch in front of her.
“Nightmare?”
Being in such an exposed state, she kept her gaze downcast, wanting nothing more than for him to hold her. “It was like the ones I had after Toby, but different.”
“Talk to me.”
He ran his fingertips down the side of her face, and she didn’t stop herself from leaning into the touch.
“We were having sex.” She licked her bottom lip, tasting blood from the cut reopening. “I was riding you backwards, and you were bouncing me when—”
“Yeah, okay. I get it.” Shifting to sit next to her, he stretched his legs out in front of him. “I’m sorry having sex with me is now considered nightmarish.”
She smiled at the joke. “That wasn’t the nightmare part.”
“Oh, I know.” The tightness in his shoulders lessened as they sat side by side, backs on the wall. “If there’s one thing in life I know how to do properly, even in dreams, it’s how to have sex with you.”
“You turned into Michael Sinclair in the middle of it.”
“Gross.”
His flippant response had her snorting.
“What? You’re the one dreaming about having sex with a terrorist.”
Punching his shoulder, she went to stand, but ended up in his lap instead. She didn’t fight the hold, laying back on his chest and allowing the warmth of his skin to seep into hers.
“I don’t want you to hold me.” There was no truth to the statement, and they both knew it. “I’m serious. Let me go.”
“Not until you listen to me.” Moving her hair aside, he propped his chin on her shoulder. “The way Sinclair talked to you during the kidnapping would suggest his motives fall along the lines of obsession.”
