Page 90 of Cruel When He Smiles
“Yes, you do,” he says, softer now. “You’re thinking too hard. You woke up, remembered what happened, and now your brain’s running a mile a minute, telling you all the reasons why you shouldn’t have wanted it. But you did want it, Nate. Youstillwant it.”
I don’t say anything, and his voice dips even lower into that coaxing, steady tone he uses when he wants me calm. “Breathe for me.”
I hate how my breath catches, how something inside me stills, how my grip on the sink loosens like I’m already settling into submission. I suck in a breath through my nose, slow and rough.
“Good. Again.”
I do it again. Slower this time.
“There he is,” Liam says, and my stomach flutters in that fucked-up way it always does when he talks to me like this. “You’re not weak for wanting me. You’re not broken for needing something rough to quiet your mind.”
I force my voice to be steady, my fingers curling into my palm, trying to grab onto something, trying to pull myself back. “Breathe for me again, Pup.”
I do. Fuck me, I do. Not because I want to, not even because I fucking choose to. But because I can’tnotlisten to him.
“Good,” he says again in a pleased tone. “You don’t have to fight yourself over this.”
I shake my head, gritting my teeth. “I’m not—”
“Shh.”
The sound slides down my spine, making my fingers twitch, making my skin prickle with something I don’t want to acknowledge.
“You did so well for me last night, do you know that?”
I feel that fucking sentence in my bones. My stomach drops, my chest tightens, my breath catches again—andfuck, fuck, fuck, it makes me feel good.
“I let you—” I start, then stop, fisting my hand in my hair again. “You—”
“I didn’t take anything from you, Nate. You gave it to me.”
I lean my head against the mirror, my forehead resting against the cool glass, and whisper, “That’s the part that fucks me up.”
There’s a pause. Then, that voice again—quiet, unshakable. “You need to get out of your head.”
“Easy for you to say. You’re not the one who—”
“Ran?” he cuts in gently. “Broke into my walls, made me lose control, made me snap when I’m the one who always stays calm? You think I’m not fucked up about it, too?”
That lands harder than it should.
Liam sighs. “Here’s what you’re going to do today.”
My spine straightens.
“You’re going to put the phone down and you’re going to shower, and then you’re going to eat something with protein and carbs. And when you’re done, you’re going to go to class and act like everything is normal.”
My heart stutters. “Liam—”
“No arguments,” he says, that dominant edge bleeding into his voice now. “You need this. You need me, Pup. So, stop fighting me when I'm trying to take care of you.”
And just like that, I’m still again. My body listens before my mind does. “Alright,” I whisper. “Okay, I’ll do that.”
“There’s a good boy.” Liam’s voice drops to something softer. “And tonight, you’re going to remember exactly how good you felt in my hands.”
A shudder rolls down my spine, and I can’t breathe.
I need to say something, need to tell him to fuck off, need to hang up. But all I do is whisper, “Why are you doing this?”
