“This is those fuckers' fault. Stupid, small dick assholes,” I mumble that lie to make myself feel better and hold my breath as I hover the tweezers over the glass hesitantly.
I’m so used to pain that this should be nothing, but I’m so frustrated. I’m sick of having open wounds and torn skin without my consent. Biting my lip, I pull the first piece out and drop the glass into the sink. It makes a clinking sound that has me flinch at the noise. I watch blood slowly go down the drain with my brows furrowed. I’m scared because the moment the sharp edges of the tweezers dug in and pulled out the tiny piece of glass… I felt relieved. Not relief because it’s no longer attached to me, but at the feeling it gave me. It hurts, makes my heart pound, and helps me focus clearly so I can pull the rest out.
What is this feeling? I only get this way when I’m racing on the street, the engine rumbling under me, or when a certain douchebag drags his cock-- That thought cuts off faster than it can fully form.
When did I suddenly start liking the pain?
I stare at my bleeding foot, setting aside the tweezers, and slowly bring my hand to the arch of my foot. Pressing down on the cut flesh, I hiss out a breath and squeeze my eyes shut at the throb it brings. My mind clears completely, like I’m waking up from a long dream, nothing else but throbbing pain to occupy my time.
“Why does it feel so good?” I whisper to myself as soon as the last piece of glass is out and tip my head back to rest against the mirror with a thud.
“It feels good because it’s something you're used to and all you know.” Logan’s voice is a deep, smooth rumble, not even startling me because he seems to keep showing up in places when I’m at my weakest.
Slowly blinking my eyes open, I release my foot and side-eye him as he leans against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest. With a sigh, I imagine repeatedly bashing his disgustingly beautiful face into the mirror, but restrain myself. He’s stronger than me, that's for sure, but he’s never met a woman like me.
“What now? Come to gloat? I’m not going anywhere,” I sneer, turning my face away from his direction, so I don’t have to see his beautiful smirk that hides all the ugliness behind it.
All lies.
He doesn’t know this but he does make me weak all over, inside and out. My heart races whenever he’s near, my stomach flutters with damn butterflies when he’s around, and my fingers itch to trace the sharp angles of his face. Even after all he’s done to me, I can’t help but be drawn to him. It’s ridiculous. I’ve hated men for a long time, never trusting anyone to protect me. I think of our moment in the shower, glancing quickly at the glass door and away before he notices. He’s the first guy who's ever given me a glimpse of heaven, I don’t even care that he’s tainted the memory with him trying to prove a point. I already know who I am. What he doesn’t know is that I’ll always be grateful to him that he made me feel alive.
I’ll never tell him that though.
Doesn’t matter how much I wish everything was different. I’d love to have a man like him at my back, to stop anyone from hurting me. To see Tey threaten anyone who dares try to touch me with that scary ass knife of his. The protective glare Nicky gives to anyone but his friends, as if he’ll kill for them. Dalton… I want his passion, the way he looks at an object he needs, can’t I be looked at that way?
When is it my turn?
So lost in my miserable thoughts, I almost forgot Logan was still in the bathroom with me until he’s suddenly at my side. Gripping my chin with his thumb and index finger, he turns my face towards him while I try to resist. I don’t want to look into his honey eyes, to see the distrust and heat that sets me on fire.
“No, you aren’t going anywhere until I’m done with you.” His grip tightens as I try to release his hold, but freeze when he tangles his fingers into my hair, tipping my head back until I’m left with no choice but to look up at him. “I’ll leave you alone for now, if you admit it.”
My body buzzes, I can’t look away from his stare and I try to remember it was only a few hours ago he held me down on my knees. The mind and body are like warped twisted lovers, a push and pull that never stops. It wants one thing and needs the other. It’s almost like having a fever, the delusion that holds control over you until you're strong enough to wake up.
Glaring at him, he just raises an eyebrow as he waits for me to answer him. I refuse to give him what he wants, after I’ve already given him enough in the last twenty-four hours.
“You know nothing about me, so stop acting like you do. You and I are nothing alike.” I harden my jaw at that, the words more true than I wished they were.
“You’re right. We do come from two different worlds. I’m at the top and you’re way at the bottom, but we all have our demons, don’t we?” His eyes flicker between mine, looking for something before a slow smile tips his plump lips.
Without warning, he shoves me back until my head bangs against the mirror behind me and causes me to hiss in pain. He doesn’t wait for me to recover, his strong tan fingers press on tiny pieces of glass on the pad of my foot, watching my expression the whole time. I suck in a breath, feeling his hand smooth over the spot, ignoring the blood smearing over our skin.
“You like this, don’t you? This is where we clash, baby girl. I like giving the torment so you can feel what I’m feeling inside, and you… you like receiving it to escape from here.” He taps my temple and drops my foot, turning on the faucet to wash his hands.
He acts like he didn’t just suck my soul out and eat it with just a few words. He doesn’t say anything else as he dries his hands on a towel and reaches under the sink to retrieve a first aid kit. Not speaking and shocking me to no end, he grasps the tweezers off the counter and starts pulling out the glass in my foot. I watch him silently, my fingers twitching with the desire to run them through his soft looking wavy brown hair. He keeps peeking up at me under his lashes, his shoulders hunched as he concentrates on his work with skilled fingers. Before I know it, he’s done gathering all the glass out of both my feet, and for some reason the pain mixed in with the feel of his strong capable hands calms something inside of me. The strange feeling held me still like a lake on an early morning. Standing up straight, he drops the worlds smallest torture object in the sink and cages me between his arms as he leans close. His nose skims mine, staring at me without blinking and my breath pants through the air at the closed space between us. I stare at his lips, knowing how much pleasure they can cause and craving it. Our lips almost touching, he starts talking, breaking the illusion I was lost in.
“You can deny it, but you like getting punished. The rush of what can possibly happen next... I can smell the desperation.” He breathes deeply through his nose and nips my bottom lip before pulling away.
Left in a daze, he smirks cruelly down at me with satisfaction and it takes me a second to register what he said.
“I’ll kill you, Logan,” I threaten, sick of his games and me falling for it over and over again.
“Oh, baby girl, you can try, but most don’t get far. I’m watching. Better get ready for school...sister,” he whispers with a wickedly handsome smile. His hand skimming down my cheek just before he turns away and fucking swaggers out of the bathroom.
Fucking sister, my ass. The things we did weren’t so brotherly of him.
I’m going to burn him, burn him so good that he’ll have something to remember me by once I’m done. I just have to find his weakness first… what he values most out of everything.
Glancing down, I open the first aid kit with my brow wrinkled as I think of what I know about him. He gives his father this cold look, almost like he despises him, but he still does as he says. I still need to figure out who exactly this family is, what kind of power they hold. Maybe I’ll get on Franco's side, learn enough to blackmail them back. It’s not like I can go to each of his best friends and gather information… unless…
