Page 127 of Unorthodox
I take a deep breath. Manage to finish my sentence. “He’d bathe us with pine-scented floor cleaner.” Saying the words makes me feel sick. My stomach flips, but I keep talking as Max holds me so tight, I can barely breathe. “He’d use a washcloth and he’d…”
I can’t.
I can’t.
But I can remember how it burned.
How we cried.
His hand over our mouths while we stood shaking in the tub together, our skin bright red, our eyes and nose andeverything elseburning.
I can remember how Danik wouldn’t talk to me after that. Not for weeks on end. He wouldn’t talk to anyone, and I felt so dirty.
Alone.
Afraid.
I swallow down a sob, closing my eyes tighter.
Max holds me closer, and I shift in his arms, turning to face him on instinct, my eyes still closed. For a second, he stiffens as I wrap my arms around his neck, lay my head against his chest. Breathe in his heady scent.
Nothing like pine.
But then he relaxes, his arms coming around my body as he pulls me to him.
“Look at me,” he tells me, his voice full of barely contained rage.
I don’t. Not right away. Max is controlled, until he just…isn’t. And I’m worried right now, he won’t be. It doesn’t matter that he’s not mad at me.
When Max loses his control, he’ll destroy anything in his path.
Including me.
Slowly, though, as the silence stretches on between us, I do as he asks, knowing that for now, if I listen to him, he won’t hurt me.
I lift my head up, and I can just make out the gleam of his eyes in the dark. I try not to focus on the stitches.
“Don’t run from me,” he says softly, and I don’t know what he means. My pulse quickens as I wonder if he’s going to try what he did before again. Fear makes me want to do exactly what he just said not to do, and I wonder why I let him in here.
I wonder why I think I had a choice.
His eyes seem to search mine for a long moment, until he slides one hand up my body, tangling his fingers in my hair. He pulls me to him, and his swollen lips come crashing down onto mine. He isn’t gentle, even as I taste blood from where someone hurt him. He doesn’t hold back, and his fingers in my hair burn my scalp. His tongue clashes with mine, his teeth too.
Then he pushes me flat on my back, and he’s over me, his fingers going to my shorts, but he doesn’t break our kiss as he shoves them down.
I try to pull back, to turn my head, but as soon as my shorts are down to my knees, he grabs my chin, not letting me move.
“Max, no. What are you—”
He grips my chin tighter, his other hand coming between us, grabbing my inner thigh, his knees on either side of my hips as he leans over me. “Do you want to forget?”
I hold his gaze while I hold my breath.Do I want to forget?
“I can do that for you.”
You can’t.
“Answer me, Addison.”
