Page 46 of Heavy
“Why don’t you have more than one in there?”
I huff out a short laugh. “I’m one person. Why didn’t you bring one with you?” Leaning down slightly, I tilt my head. “Still a bit hungover?”
Shaking her head, she takes a step back from me. “No, I just… didn’t think about it. Can I go now?”
My gaze drags to her shoulders where she has the scattered flowers from arm to arm and across her collarbones. They are bright, and stunning on her alabaster skin. I’ve been curious if she has any more where I’ve not been able to see. She has some on her legs, notably my favorite one: the snake, but what about her stomach, sternum—fuck, I’m just curious about what she looks like naked, let’s be honest.
“You can,” I finally answer after a moment of pause. “But my towel stays here.”
Her chest rises, and I look at how said cloth is being held around her large breasts. She has it tucked, wrapping tightly under her armpits. One tug and she’s bare for me. Just the thought of exposing her, hearing her gasp and watching her become more flustered, almost has me giving in.
“Absolutely not.” She attempts to move to my side, but I take up the entire doorway. “Move!” The shout is cute, nothing compared to her actual terror just moments ago when she opened the door.
I shake my head, and she bares her teeth. “You were so sweet earlier for staying beside my bed.” Her words cause me to pause. Did she call me sweet? “Now you are being a fucking asshole. Move! I’m not getting naked in front of you.”
Was that act of not wanting her to die ‘sweet’? Her breathing was so erratic, and I started to worry she might be having a nocturnal panic attack. Ken used to have them when he first got booked into prison, and I became all too familiar with how to handle them because of him.
When she woke, I stayed quiet, just watching to see if she could pull herself out of whatever was happening. She’d been mumbling my name while she slept, but I wasn’t about to tease her. I think I was hurting her—especially since she screamed for help and told me ‘no’.
“Drop the towel, Cal, and I’ll let you go.”
She crosses her arms in defiance. “Stop, Ronan. That isn’t happening. I’ll touch you if you don’t move.” The threat may as well be a knife to my throat.
“Do it and I’ll bend you over that sink, take the towel anyway, and spank you while you watch yourself drool.”
When she uncrosses her arms, my heart beats quicker, pounding hard against my chest. Her hand reaches out to me, and my jaw ticks. “Baby girl, I do not make threats.”
“Move.” Her fingertips move to my chest and my nostrils flare. I can feel the heat of her skin nearing mine.
“I make promises. The answer is no, do not touch me… you will regret it.”
I don’t take my eyes off of hers, and when she swallows, her palm presses against my chest.
15
Calista
Hiseyesdarken,andI know I’ve fucked up.
Why did I do that? I know better.Damn it, Calista.
My heart leaps into my throat, and it feels impossible to dislodge it. Every part of me trembles as his gaze slowly shifts to my hand, which is literally cupping his chest. The nipple piercing presses against my palm, and I swallow roughly.
Some delusional part of me thinks my touch will be different. That whatever ailment he has doesn’t apply to me. Maybe, instead of following through on his threat, he’ll grab the back of my head and smash his lips into mine.
But that would mean giving me something beautiful, something perfect—something I want, just for once. A fantasy that will only live in my head.
He moves so fast that I don’t even have a second to grab the towel before it’s thrown to the ground. The motion pulls me closer to him, and when my bare chest crashes into his, I gasp. His skin is so hot, and he feels so right, and all I want is to have every ridge of his perfect body rubbing against mine.
But I don’t get a single moment to savor the closeness before his hand is at the back of my neck, making me hiss through my teeth. He pulls me back, and suddenly I’m in the position he promised. My breasts press against the cold marble countertop, goosebumps instantly spreading across my body.
The way he handles me is far from gentle. He drags me further up, my thighs hitting the edge of the counter.
“Ronan! Stop!”
He grabs my wet hair after releasing my neck and pulls my head back. The burn in my scalp has me panting, and no matter how I push up on the hard surface below me, I don’t go anywhere. He has his elbow of the hand holding my hair pressed into the middle of my back, pinning me.
When my eyes spring open, I look through the mirror at him. He’s staring down at my ass, and as he wets his bottom lip, my thighs quiver. I attempt to squeeze my legs together, but not because I don’t want him to see. Ineedto feel anything between them. This is so fucked up, but I would be a lying bitch if I said my clit didn’t want as much attention as his eyes are giving me.
