Page 25 of Unorthodox
“Addison,” he says, a warning in my name. “Drop your fucking hands.”
My heart is rattling around so hard in my chest it’s almost painful, but I don’t. Ben might have tamed me, Max might have drugged me to get me to crave him, but this is a new fight.
The rules are different, becausehe just killed a man.
“Stop touching me.” I hate that my voice is hoarse, that my legs are trembling beneath me, but I don’t let go of him.
He stares at me a long moment, the water beating down on his back, over his shoulders, tracing rivulets through his scars.
Then he moves, slamming me back against the shower wall, jarring my spine. His hands are still over my breasts, pinning me beneath him as he leans his weight against me.
A gasp escapes my throat, and when he lifts one hand, yanking his wrist from my grip, I hold my arm up to protect my face, my body tense as it anticipates the blow.
But he doesn’t hit me.
Instead, he knocks my arm away, and his fingers are gentle against my jaw.
“Look at me,” he says softly, his mouth over mine. He’s still gripping my breast painfully tight in his other hand, so hard my eyes water, but I open them, doing as he asked, holding my breath as he trails his fingers up and down the side of my face.
“When I ask you a question,” his thumb brushes over my mouth, pulling down my bottom lip as his eyes bore into mine, “you answer me. And don’teverfucking touch me like that again, or it’ll be your blood we wash down this drain.”
I can’t speak, the words caught in my throat as he keeps his thumb tugging on my bottom lip.
His grip on my chest loosens, his hand comes down my side, gripping my hip instead as he pulls me closer to him.
I can feel his erection against my stomach, rock hard and warm. Too big. I bite my lip to keep the pressure building behind my eyes from turning into tears down my face.
“Do you understand, love?”
I keep my trembling hands by my sides, but ball them into fists as he moves his finger from my mouth, trails his hand down my throat, and goes back to caressing my breasts.
Slowly, I nod.
“Now, let’s try this again.” He gently pulls one nipple, then the other, and I bite my tongue to keep from gasping. “Why did you get implants?”
“I wanted them,” I lie immediately, unable to hold his gaze. The words come out in a rush, my face on fire, but I can’t tell him the truth. This is humiliation enough. I won’t give him more. I look down at his big hand all over me, squeezing me, caressing me, water streaming down our bodies, his other hand still on my hip.
His grip turns nearly painful and I gasp, my eyes meeting his.
“Don’t lie to me,” he says quietly, but there’s a warning laced in his words.
I lick my lips and look away from him at the clean white tiles. Then I close my eyes for a moment, my mouth going dry all over again. I don’t want to talk about this. I don’t even know whyhewants to talk about this.
But his words come back to me:“I don’t want your body, stupid girl. Everyone will have that. Pay attention, Addison. It’s your mind I want to fuck.”
This is part of the appeal for him. Where Ben wanted physical control, Max wants to fuck my head and control me in a darker, more dangerous way. He wants to make me uncomfortable. Humiliate me. That’s what gets him off.
But to what end? What happens after this? How far will this go?
Someone will come for me.
“I’ll pull the trigger after I fuck you senseless.”
“My father wanted me to have them,” I finally say, forcing myself to push my shoulders back, hold my chin up and hold his gaze even though I am feeling anything but proud.
But I learned a few things from my father. Not because he taught me, but because I watched him. I might have been a toy, but I was a smart one and I paid attention, so I didn’t get hurt any more than I had to. I learned how to affect confidence.
Max looks almost amused, his eyes locked on mine as he caresses me. And in this moment, above all others, I actually hate him.
