Page 9 of A Touch of Heaven

“What are you begging me for? You want me to make you come, Brookie? Fuck you senseless till you’re a mess on your bed with your eyes hazy and your tongue hanging out?”

I nod, my eyes wide. God, yes, to all of it, I think.

“Not going to happen, Brooke. Don’t act so fucking desperate. It doesn’t suit you, opening your legs like a slut for me. Tut tut, I’m disappointed in you. I’m not having my brother’sfriendact like this,” he says the word friend like it’s disgusting to him, sneering as he says it. “Now behave while you are here. Not one guy will touch you in front of me, or else they will have those hands broken…is that what you want?”

I shake my head, tears pricking my eyes.

Why is he saying these things to me?

Is that what he thinks of me?

“Good. Now get your ass inside and change out of those fucking shorts. Because I swear, it will be on you if my friends look at you the wrong way.” He drops my chin, pushing me back forcefully, and looks back at the ocean as if I’m nothing to him but a nuisance.

I get up quickly, almost tripping over my feet as I run inside. I slam the door hard, bypassing his friends as they look at me with curiosity, and I rush to my bedroom, slamming that door, too.

Tears fall down my cheeks as I slump to the floor, leaning against the cool wood. I try to work out what just happened. He called me a slut, desperate.

He’s never said anything like that to me before, so why now?

Is this how he always felt about me?

My heart is breaking, and I don’t know what’s happening.

Why would he treat me this way?

I can’t stop the tears from falling as I hold my knees close to my chest. I feel like I could throw up.

Is that what I am?

A slut?

I opened my legs for him, knowing everyone was inside and anyone could catch us. I didn’t care if anything; it excited me more. I begged him to touch me and wanted more—I wanted it all with him.

Does that make me a slut?

I’m starting to wonder if this is the side I haven’t seen before. I hear rumors around town about Chase all the time. He has a temper and a dark side, but I’ve never seen it before, so I’ve never believed it.

Part of me feels ashamed of myself for what just happened. Another part of me loved every second of it, and I want to storm back out and demand him to touch me again and finish the job.

I’m so confused. I brush away my tears, get off the floor, and look at myself in the mirror.

Does he really think I’m desperate?

Did he really think I was trying to sleep with his friends?

He should know better. We’ve all known each other for years, and I wouldn’t touch either of them like that.

“Brooke, food’s here,” I hear Nate call.

“I’ll be down in a minute,” I shout back, hoping my voice isn’t betraying me as I wipe the tears from my eyes.

I swallow hard and grab a pair of jeans from my dresser, quickly changing into them. Not wanting a repeat of what just happened…fuck, or do I? I groan, confused, before pulling my hair into a loose, high ponytail.

I take one further look in the mirror and nod at myself. There’s no sign of tears, but a flush in my cheeks seems to rise as I think about how he just touched me. How possessive he sounded.

Well, fuck him.

He thinks I’m a desperate slut and wants to do this protective bullshit he can fuck right off.

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