Page 83 of Whips and Chains
I shook my head. “I’m fine.”
But I wasn’t. I was triggered by seeing Travis again and I knew it. I hated that he was back, ruining something else for me.
X took another long look at me and threw his Monopoly money down on the board. “We retire. I’m going to give Violet the tour of the house until dinner is ready.”
He pulled me up with him, while his brothers booed him and Grandma Ruth made chicken clucking noises at him, taunting him for being too scared to lose.
X just ruffled her hair like she was a toddler as we walked by, and she swatted at him playfully.
I expected him to take me upstairs and show me his childhood bedroom or something, but he moved through the kitchen that smelled amazing, a big pot of something incredible simmering away on the stove, to the glass back doors.
He opened them, and we stepped out onto a deck. A large table sat in the center, surrounded by at least ten chairs. Fairy lights decorated the rail and lit the way down a set of stairs.
I followed X down them, our feet finding the soft grass of the lawn at the bottom.
“Your family is amazing,” I said into the quiet night air around us.
His thumb stroked the back of my hand. “They’re okay.”
I tugged him to stop. “They’re more than okay. They’re perfect.”
He sighed, focusing on a spot just past my shoulder. “That’s kind of the problem. They’re all perfect. And I’m…not.” He dragged his gaze back to mine. “I love them with all that I have. They’re the only reason I even know what love is. And I’m not complaining about them at all, because I know your childhood was so much worse…” He breathed out slowly. “It’s just hardwhen I’ve spent my whole life keeping secrets from them. Always censoring myself so I didn’t say something that one of them would find terrifying. I love them, you know? And the thought of my mother knowing what’s in my head makes me sick. I don’t want her to know any of that.”
Shadows engulfed his face, but the fairy lights left enough of a glow that I could see his expression contort with pain.
“I spent so many years being scared I would hurt one of them. I’m still scared of that. It’s the one thing I’m actually truly afraid of. Hurting them. Hurting you…” He swallowed thickly. “We shouldn’t even be out here alone.”
I laughed. “That’s ridiculous, X. We’re fifty feet away from your family.”
His gaze hardened. “You think I couldn’t snap your neck in the time it would take for them to hear you scream?”
A shiver ran down my spine at the sudden intensity in his eyes.
And I knew without a doubt he wasn’t being dramatic.
He was danger and violence and unpredictability.
And I didn’t care because somewhere along the way, I’d started trusting him with my life. He might be the bad guy, but he was the bad guy I kept running to.
I just needed him to trust himself.
I stared up at him and linked my fingers around his, drawing them up to my throat.
He hissed as he caressed the soft skin there, something deep and guttural that sent ripples of pleasure straight to the spot between my legs.
“Violet,” he groaned, thumbs stroking over every inch. “What are you doing?”
“Trusting you.”
“You shouldn’t.”
He was probably right. I’d seen how he could kill a man. Seen how once he started, he couldn’t stop. He didn’t trust himself, and it was stupid for me to think I knew better.
But I wanted his hands on me.
Wanted to give him that power over me.
Wanted his hand around my throat when he kissed me.
