Page 28 of Teach Me
“Not tonight,” Brit mocked. “Yes, tonight. I want some relief, and you’re going to give it. No more dicking around.”
His voice rose with every word he spoke, warning her that the alcohol was stealing his patience more by the minute. Before she could dodge, he had her arm, fingers hard, hurting. Brit spun her around.
“Brit, no.”
“Yes.” The alcohol-scented word hit her ear as his body met her back. The hard jut of his erection had her swallowing hard.
“I mean it,” she told him, forcing the words not to wobble. “You need to go home and sleep it off.”
“I don’t think so.” His fingers bit into her arms, refusing to allow her to move. She could feel the echo of her racing heartbeat in the throbbing pain in her biceps. “How many months have we been together? How many months? I’ve waited. I’ve been patient. More patient than anyone else would have been. Maybe more patient than I should have been.” His fingers dropped to circle her wrists. A small shove into her back propelled her across the room toward the dim hallway. “Maybe I’m tired of being patient, Jess. Maybe the time for patience is over.”
Panic blossomed in earnest. She lunged, hoping to escape, to reach her room and lock him out, only to be yanked back by the sudden digging of his fingers into her hips.
Stay calm,she told herself.If you stay calm, he’ll let go.
A tugging at her side registered, then cool air on her skin as her skirt dropped to the floor.
Fuck calm.
“What the hell are you doing?” Jess scrambled for her skirt. A heavy jerk at her back busted the buttons down the front of her shirt.
“I’m doing what I should have done a long time ago. Taking what’s mine.”
The sound of her sharp scream startled her awake. She shot up, clutching her shirt, gasping a stream of panicked cries that reminded her far too clearly of what Brit had done. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t succeeded, that her screams had convinced the neighbors to call the police, that the sirens had scared Brit away before they could find him there. It didn’t matter, because when she went to sleep at night, she relived it over and over again. Every word, every touch, every violation. She might’ve escaped him once, but each nightmare assured her he still controlled her in every way that mattered.
“No! No, he doesn’t.” She forced herself to swallow through a tight, dry throat, to breathe when her lungs refused to fill. “Just shut it down. It’s okay; you’re awake now.”
A rough, desperate scrub of her hand wiped the lingering sleep from her eyes and the feel of Brit’s breath from her neck. The dream faded slowly, leaving Jess chilled and clammy in the cool air-conditioning of the apartment. It took long moments before she could finally force her shivering limbs to carry her to the bathroom and the splash of tepid water on her face, her wrists. When her heart no longer felt like it would tumble out of her throat, she braced her hands on either side of the sink and met her reflection’s eyes in the mirror.
“You’re okay. It’s gonna be okay.”
She had to believe that. She wasn’t Brit’s mouse any longer; she wasn’t anyone’s mouse. Even big strong Conlan had taken the easy way out, but she wouldn’t. She planned to live, even if it hurt.
Rough terry cloth absorbed the water on her skin and woke her up just a little bit more. She tossed the towel aside and headed down the hall toward the kitchen and coffee and breakfast. She would eat, relax, maybe call Cris… The thought of the interrogation she would get nixed that idea. Maybe later. For now she just wanted peace and quiet.
Jess carried her food down the hall to her office and settled in at her desk. She sipped the warm, vanilla-flavored coffee and nibbled bites of her breakfast as the computer booted. When the blue welcome screen popped up, she clicked on the e-mail icon and ate while her mail loaded.
Spam. Sales alerts. She finished off her coffee, her gaze on the screen. Nothing important. She scanned and deleted and shuffled things to particular folders for later, until she reached the bottom of the screen and the latest e-mail in the list.
You are mine.
The subject line seemed to flash a warning in neon lights. “Jesus, no.” It couldn’t be. But the echo of those words in Brit’s cultured, commanding voice told her otherwise.
Half of the message was visible in the preview pane. No, not a message, a picture. It looked like the roof of a building, the vaguest hint of light shining off it.
Moonlight. An apartment building. Conlan’s.
Her mind screamed at her to ignore the e-mail, not to click on it, that she didn’t want to know what it contained. Her finger ignored her mind; it clicked automatically. The picture loaded on her screen, an image of Conlan and Jess arriving on his motorcycle at his apartment building last night. Conlan had one foot on the pavement, his fingers at the strap to his helmet. Jess gripped his hips.
A single line of text beneath the photo took over her entire field of vision, her every thought, even her breath.
You are mine.
The coffee that had calmed her earlier rolled in her stomach now.
The e-mail program beeped. Another message, no subject. Same e-mail address. Jess clicked. The screen filled with a picture.
Same night, same parking lot. An embracing couple. Her gut went cold, the ice spreading out to freeze her legs and arms and fingers and lips just like it had in her dream. Even her scalp squeezed tight. It was her, this time wrapped in Conlan’s arms, his mouth on hers, his fingers palming her rear to drag her close. The remembered feel of his heat ghosted over her, the pulsing rhythm of his hips against hers, his tongue stroking into her mouth. And then he’d taken her inside—and dumped her because she was a virgin.
