April almost spits out her drink. “What?”
“Just pick a color, please.”
“Uh…blue?”
“Excellent choice.” I pull out two penis-shaped straws, a blue one for her and a neon green one for myself.
“Oh my god,” she’s laughing now, “you cannot be serious.”
“What? Isn’t this the sort of thing a maid of honor is supposed to do at bachelorettes?” I hand her the straw. “It was either this or paying someone on Craigslist to give you a lap dance.”
“I’m glad you chose the straws.”
“Me too. All right, let’s get this over with.” I raise my glass. “Here’s to your last week as a single, unmarried woman. May you and Parker have a lifetime of love and happiness.”
“Wow, that was surprisingly not mean at all —”
“And may your future children love me more than they love you.”
“There it is.”
We clink our glasses together and use the penis straws to suck out the booze like total pros. The smooth burn slides down my throat, and for a split second, the chaos inside my head quiets. The world stops spinning and for a second, the name Theo Carter vanishes from my brain. Only for a second.
Then the strange sensation returns to my chest, practically clawing at it.
Do you want me to stop?
Tell me to stop, Holly.
You have two seconds before I back off.
I suck hard on my green straw, immediately getting a mouthful of unmixed vermouth.
I want to go back in time and smack myself on the head. I should’ve just told him to back off. But it was as if every brain cell I owned stopped working the second he put his hands on me. Rough and firm curled around the back of my neck. The feeling of his long, slender fingers, pressing and pushing against my pulse, testing my patience and his self-restraint simultaneously. It was maddening. So fucking intoxicating.
I hated how it made me feel. Like there was this intense pull between pure rage and something darker. Heavier. The way he touched me. The way hespoketo me. The way his voice dipped low, calm but commanding, threading itself into my chest like it belonged there.
No one’s ever spoken to me like that. Correction: no one’s ever spoken to me like that and lived to see another day. Usually, Theo’s all “yes, ma’am” and “whatever you need, love” around me — which, as much as I make it seem like it pisses me off, it isn’t all that bad. There’s a kind of power in knowing you can bend someone to your will with a single glance or a sharp word. Him knowing his place around me is probably his only redeeming quality. But this…this was new. There was a fire in his eyes, no room for apologies or hesitation. For once,hehad control, and I…kinda liked it…
No. I shake my head.
Not at all. Of course, I didn’tlikeit! What the hell is wrong with me? This is Theo Carter we’re talking about.
Do you want me to stop?
Just because I couldn’t formulate a cohesive response to his stupid words, doesn’t mean Ilikedhaving his hands on me. I was just shocked, is all. Stunned into mutism.
Tell me to stop, Holly.
A dark unsettling heat courses through my veins, and I fidget with the tiny scalpel tied to my thigh just above the hem of my skirt.
You have two seconds before I back off.
The cold metal does little to erase the gnawing tension building inside me.
Did I want him to stop? Did I really,trulywant him to back off and peel his hands off my skin? Or did I want him to keep pushing me until I snapped and made him bleed? Until I slit his throat for touching me so tenderly — and let him keep touching me as I did it.
This is wrong.
