Page 67 of Break Me
I toss the phone case on the couch beside him on second thought.
I head to the bathroom, on the far side of the couch, and have to walk down a small tunnel to get there. It’s dark down here, and the music from the open plan bar is loud even here, I’m the One by HELLYEAH.
I push open the women’s restroom door, walking into the single stall, then someone pushes me from behind, making me nearly trip.
I whirl around, but the door swings shut and whoever it is flicks the light off before I can get a good look at them.
I open my mouth to scream, and a hand clamps over it, a warm body pressed against my back.
I drive my elbow back into their chest but then I hear a dark, husky laugh.
One I know very well.
A chill slides down my spine and I still in Benji’s arms.
What the fuck is he doing here?
“Hello, Princess,” he whispers against my ear, one hand around my waist, the other still clamped over my mouth. “You’ve been ignoring me.”
I don’t move.
His tongue trails down my neck and despite myself, despite my heart slamming in my chest from fear and confusion, it takes all of my self-control not to lean back into him. I can feel his hard cock against my back, and I wish I couldn’t.
Because it only makes me want him more.
He digs his teeth, gently, into my shoulder, moving down the sleeve of my dress.
I can’t stop the soft moan that escapes my lips, into his hand. He smiles against my skin.
“That’s my girl,” he whispers.
I swallow, and his hand moves away from my mouth.
“I’m not your girl,” I tell him, but don’t dare move. “What’re you—”
His fingers dig into my waist, cutting me off, and then he spins me around, planting me against the bathroom wall.
I can barely make him out in front of me in the darkness, but I feel his eyes on me. I hear his breathing, steady and sure.
“You ignoring me to fuck someone else, Princess?” he asks me quietly, his breath against my mouth. He smells so fucking good. “I like to watch, you know. You could let me see you.” His lips brush against mine. “Let me see you let someone else in.”
I turn my face away. “We’re not together,” I manage to say, my words hoarse.
He laughs again, and I feel it on my cheek. He grips my chin in his hand and yanks my head back to face him, even though I’m pretty sure he can’t see me any better than I can see him.
“Why aren’t you back in Toronto?” I ask him, his hand still on my chin, the other presumably beside my head on the wall. “Why aren’t you fucking your girl back home?” I take a shaky breath. “You went to prison for her. Fucked up your life. Why aren’t you with her now?”
The palm of his hand slides down my chin, down my throat, over my collarbone, coming to rest on my breast. He squeezes one, then the other, then dips his fingers into my bra, running the pad of his thumb over both of my nipples.
I wonder if he can feel my heart about to explode out of my chest.
He circles one nipple with his thumb, then pinches it. Hard.
I gasp, stumbling into him, my hands planted on his chest. I feel his hard muscles beneath his shirt, and I can’t let go of him.
Not yet.
“You want me to be with her?” he goads me, his mouth against my ear. He cups my breast between us. “You want me to do this to her, Ava?”
