Page 45 of Like Grim Death: Part One
I know it’s him.
Atlas has a distinct scent. It’s clean and minty, like spearmint.
Still, my heart gallops too fast in my chest as I try to reach for the phone in his hand. He throws it, aiming into the bushes lining the front porch. I hear it hit the ground, and I try to spin in his arms, attempting to get away like I’ve been taught.
But before I can gain any leverage, he brings his forearm to my throat, his hand still over my mouth.
“I told you not to come here.”
For a moment, I’m speechless, fear enveloping me like his hard body at my back. He’s so disarming, with his blond hair beneath his hat and the dimples flashing in his boyish face when he smiles, it’s easy to forget just how tall he is, howstrong,but in his arms, I feel like nothing.
His muscles are lean, like a swimmer’s, but his strength is apparent even in his hand over my mouth, unrelenting as I try to speak.
When my lips part, he pushes two fingers in, gliding over my tongue, his knuckles hitting the corners of my mouth as my stomach convulses. He lowers his arm, banding it around my stomach as I gag, and I know he can feel it in my gut.
Saliva pools on my tongue, and again, I try to turn in his arms, but his grip is firm. Panicking, my mind in overdrive, I go to bite down on his fingers when he seems to read my mind with the prick of my teeth.
“Go ahead.” His breath brushes the shell of my ear.“Do it.”His tone is light, almost like he’s telling a joke, and somehow, it unnerves me more.
I hold my breath as he jams his knuckles further into my mouth, stretching my lips, so Ican’tbite him.
“You’re going to get your phone,” he says, his words low. “And you’re going to walk back to your house.” His fingers splay over my jacket, just above my shorts. He drags them further down, then up under my shirt, so his cold skin is against mine.
The muscles in my stomach jump with his touch.
“Do you understand?”
I can’t speak, but I nod once, knowing I’m lying.
“I’m going to let you go,” he tells me, spit running over my chin, his fingers still down my throat. “And you’re going to do exactly what I said, Ella.”
A second passes.
Then another.
His fingers slip lower, just underneath the waistband of my shorts. My mind stops racing for half a second, and cold fear envelopes me.
But then he does what he said.
He pulls his fingers out of my mouth and drops his arm.
Immediately, I put distance between us, then spin to face him, wiping my sleeve over my mouth.
I’m breathing hard, relief like pins and needles beneath my skin as I back up another step.
He’s never been like that with me.He’s been manipulative, and I know, somewhere deep down, he’s part of the reason I’m… all messed up.
But he’s never donethat.
I open my mouth to say something, but he’s looking at his index and middle finger. The ones he pushed into my throat.
I take another step back.
A floodlight flicks on from the porch, and in the soft glow, I see my saliva dripping down his fingers.
His expression doesn’t change. He looks like he’s studying it. I take in his backward hat, T-shirt, and his ripped, gray jeans and white, high-top Converses.
His eyes flick to mine.
