Page 71 of Hush Darling
He sprung off the bed.
Startled by his abrupt withdrawal, she sat up, the ache in her stomach making it palpably clear she was no longer a virgin. The soreness was already setting in. “Is something wrong?”
“Quiet.” He paced the carpet, raking his fingers through his hair as an aching void took shape inside of her.
The sense that she’d somehow bested him should have left her feeling empowered, but she only felt abandoned and confused by his mercurial shifts.
“James?”
He froze, tension noticeably twitching down the muscled back. His voice dropped dangerously low. “I told you not to use my name.”
Gideon also warned her, but without a reason, their warnings seemed pointless. “Why can’t I?”
“Because I fucking said so!” He was on top of her before she saw him move. “Say it again. I dare you. See what happens.”
She wanted to. She wanted to look him in the eyes and call him by name so he knew she wasn’t afraid of him. But that was a lie. She was terrified.
Instead, she bravely caressed his cheek and flinched when he caught her wrist in an unbreakable grip and growled. “Don’t.”
“I only wanted to touch you.”
He flung her touch away and sprang from the bed, leaving her naked and trembling. Snatching up his clothes, he left without dressing and slammed the door.
She gaped at the empty room, confused by what just happened. Dropping her face into her hands, she collapsed onto the pillows and stomped her foot in frustration. “Damn it.”
Chapter 13
The Shadow Never Leaves
The door slammed behind James as he angrily shoved his legs into his pants. What the hell just happened? Tucking himself away, he froze at the sight of her innocence smeared on his still-swollen flesh.
He needed air and rushed for the surface like a drowning man, unable to catch his breath he rushed past Gideon as he came from the opposite end of the corridor.
“Cap’n—”
“Not now,” he snarled as he stormed up the steps.
The moon hung low on the horizon, painting silver shadows on the deck as dawn softened the sky with a deep purple haze. Standing at the prow, James clenched the cold wood of the railing as he stared out at the endless expanse of black water.
The memory of her confused gaze haunted him. Could she actually trust him? Why? He’d done nothing but torment and threaten her.
He couldn’t think of her tears. Women cried. She’d been innocent. He might have been too rough.
But he knew that wasn’t it. She was upset, yes, but not for the right reasons. She should have hated him the moment he laid a hand on her, but she didn’t. Somehow, she accepted his authority and found the strength to surrender to it.
The only thing she wanted was a sense of connection, which was the one thing he couldn’t give. This was never about her. It was about his brother and taking revenge. It only worked if she hated him.
His hand balled into a fist as he glared at the black ripples and clenched his teeth in frustration. He closed his eyes and pictured her look of panic when he practically ran from her.
She was never meant to surrender this easily. Nor was she meant to crave closeness from him.
It had to be a trap. But if she were merely trying to manipulate him, why did she seem so genuinely betrayed by his enforced boundaries?
Cutting off all tenderness hurt her on a deeper level, not because she couldn’t handle the physical, but because she relied on the emotional. She desperately craved a sense of intimacy he could not fabricate—for her or anyone.
That was why she wanted to use his name and why he could not allow it. But disappointing her in the wake of such stunning submission was somehow worse than causing her physical pain. Her look of bewildered confusion manifested in his own discomfort, and that was never part of the plan.
She called him James, a name no one had used since he was a boy. The man he’d become could not reconcile with the child he’d been. The atrocities he’d done…
