Page 65 of Ruthless Chaos
He holds my hand in place while he uses the damp handkerchief to wipe away the blood and adds pressure to the cut.
His brows are knitted, his jaw set in a hard line.
I was wrong. He’s not panicked, he’s angry.
“It’s whiskey,” he says after a moment. It stings the way rubbing alcohol would. “It’s just a flesh wound,” he mutters more to himself than me, tying the handkerchief around my finger. He dabs two fingers in the whiskey and smears it on my forehead.
His fingers come away tinged with pink.
Alexander’s eyes are trained on my hand, even after he’s finished. It’s when I try to move it out of his grasp that his gaze flickers to mine.
There’s fire in his eyes.
“You’re so stupid,” he snaps, tightening his grip on my wrist. “How the fuck did you manage to cut yourself like that?” He’s searching my face for an answer I can’t give him.
Embarrassment snakes up the back of my neck, and I look away from him as the flush heats my body. He doesn’t know that it’s totally on-brand for this to happen to me.
I’m basically a harbinger of bad luck.
“Does it hurt much?” His question is barely a whisper.
I glance at my hand, the one he’s still holding in a vice grip. It’s starting to hurt now, but I don’t mind the pain. The makeshift bandage is bulky, and I jiggle my finger.
“No, not really,” I reply. “I have a high pain tolerance.”
That last part slips out before I think it through. Alexander is silent for a few heartbeats, but thankfully doesn’t say anything about my admission.
“You need to be more careful, Allie.”
My brows furrow. Is this his way of showing concern?
Surprise flashes on his face, as if that slipped out before he thought it through too.
He releases me and takes the seat opposite mine.
“Was it my cock that startled you?” He grins a wicked smile.
I avert my eyes. His laugh echoes in the quietness enveloping us.
“It still scares you? Even though you’ve had it in your mouth? You’re a weird one.”
My body does the most treacherous thing.
It makes me relive the feeling of having him in my mouth.
I feel it all for a split second—the way the tip of his length rubbed the back of my throat, how full my mouth was when I had taken all of him in. I even remember Alexander’s groan of pleasure when I started stroking it.
To my horror, I start to salivate.
I force the feeling aside and stay quiet.
You cried after he did that to you.
He pushed me into a corner—both physically and figuratively—to make that moment happen. I should be repulsed, but even that doesn’t sting as much as it used to.
Oh god, is there something wrong with me?
“Why are you still so scared of me?”
