Page 54 of Hounded
When his fingers walked down my back toward my belt, I turned. Despite being pinned against the cabinetry and feeling trapped, I held his gaze steadily.
“How often do you think of me?” I asked.
He cupped his palms over my hips, and his lips pursed. “All the time. It’s one of my favorite pastimes.”
I searched his eyes for the truth he didn’t tell. If hethought of me often—all the time—how could he stay away? How could he lie in bed with his wife while I was here alone? How could he love her if his heart belonged to me?
“It’s been two weeks,” I said flatly.
Storm clouds rolled across Jonathan’s face. “I’m a busy man, Loren.” His hands fell away, and he stepped back. “Not all of us have the luxury of whiling our days away watching the clock or calendar. I must work to afford the lifestyle to which you’ve grown accustomed.” He gestured to the apartment around us, outfitted with imported furniture, tasseled rugs, and ornate wallpaper.
“If I may be blunt, you are rather expensive to maintain,” he concluded.
Shame warmed my face, and I ducked my head from his scathing glare. “I didn’t ask for this,” I replied.
“No,” he retorted. “You asked for what I could not give you. And I askedyouto be content with what Iamable to offer. Is it too much to expect a bit of gratitude?” He drew close again, and his chest puffed with anger.
I shied back, pressing against the cabinets. “I’m grateful.”
Jonathan made a scoffing sound. “You’re selfish.”
My mouth fell open. I gaped at him, speechless, while he spun away and threw up his hands in defeat.
“I pay your rent, buy you food, fine clothing, tickets to shows you enjoy…” With every listed item, he grew louder. “I bring you gifts! Flowers, your silly poetry books, and those fountain pens you’re so fond of.” He rolled his eyes skyward and exclaimed, “It’s never enough!”
My fists clenched so tightly they trembled. For years,I’d bitten my tongue, not wanting to upset the balance we’d struck, but my emotional wounds had begun to seep with a poison I could no longer contain.
“It’s more than enough of all the wrong things!” I exclaimed. “I don’t need money or gifts. I’d love you the same if you were a poor man!”
With another snort, Jonathan spun away. As he paced the length of the tiny room, his shoes slapped against the floorboards. “Of course, you can say that,” he muttered. “It’s easy to imagine having nothing because you came from nothing.” He stopped long enough to level his index finger at my chest. “You ensnared me with your beauty, and now I may never be rid of you.”
His statement stole my breath, and I sagged against the counter. I watched him pace back and forth three more times before I asked, “Do youwantto be rid of me?”
He stopped and fixed me with a weary look.
“If I did, I would simply turn you out. Then perhaps you’d realize how fortunate you’ve been all these years.” He crossed his arms and huffed a breath. “You’d be lost out there. You know nothing of the real world, and you have no skills besides those you learned on your back.”
I reeled, choked by a swell of stinging tears. We’d never fought like this. He never spoke so harshly, and the truth of his statements stabbed into me as sharply as a knife.
When I found my voice again, it was strangled. “Because of you!” I choked out. “You keep me here awaiting your beck and call. I wanted to be your lover, but you made me your whore!”
Jonathan crossed the room so rapidly I barelyregistered it. The moment he was within arm’s reach of me, he swung his hand backward in a cracking connection with my cheek.
The blow rattled my teeth and rocked my head to the side. I stayed partly spun with my jaw hung slack and pulsing with pain.
“No whore would test me the way you do,darling.” Jonathan snarled the last word. “Have you anything else to say?” he asked. “Other complaints to lodge?”
I didn’t dare look at him, and my words had run out, so I found a warped floorboard a few feet away and stared at it.
Jonathan heaved a sigh. “I thought not.”
Quiet flooded the room while I touched tentative fingers to the bruising spot on my face. Jonathan frowned, then gently took hold of my wrist.
“Let’s have a look at that.” He moved my hand aside to cast an inspective glance across my cheek. “No harm done. Just a bit of blush.”
He raised my hand to his lips and kissed my knuckles. “Now, I don’t intend to let a little spat spoil our time together. As you said, it’s been weeks.” He stepped backward, tugging me toward the far corner of the apartment and my bedroom.
When I barely swayed and didn’t follow, Jonathan turned toward me and eased into a smile, this one conniving.
