Page 160 of Trailer Trash

But I don’t say that. I don’t forgive him. There’s so much he did wrong.

I shake my head, hoping it hurts him as bad as he’s hurt me.

His eyes lock on mine, unblinking.

“Then I’ll remind you why we belong together.”

He lunges.

Oh, fuck!

I grab the pocketknife. I manage to snap it open, but not fast enough.

He grapples my wrists. I fist the knife, but I cannot move my arms to stab.

I’m thrust onto the bed. The knife flies from my hand, landing next to a pillow and out of reach.

The dresser drawer opens, and the clink of metal catches my attention. A belt.

Oh, no.

“No, Killian!” I scream, but he grabs rolled-up socks from the dresser and shoves them into my mouth. I try to pull the socks out, but just as fast, the belt is looped around my wrists, binding my hands tightly together. He wraps the leather around and around, then threads under itself, securing it in place. My bottoms and underwear are ripped down in one swift pull.

He shoves his pants off and moves on top of me, forcing my legs apart.

Not again.

He lines up his cock, but I use the moment and lift my leg, kicking him squarely in the groin. He gasps and tenses. I battle to sit up and reach the knife. My hands outstretch, and barely, just barely, my fingertips curl around the handle.

Killian grabs my ankle and rips me back toward him. He climbs on top of me, but I’m ready.

With my bound hands, I hold the knife, pressing the blade’s tip right under his jaw.

He freezes.

I spit out the sock.

“I’ll stab you,” I say sternly.

“You wouldn’t,” he says carefully, because opening his jaw too wide would cut.

“Get off me very slowly.” I apply pressure, causing him to rise. I keep the blade there as I move with him until we are both standing. “Hands up.”

He holds up his hands.

My head is cranked back as I look up at him. His expression is unreadable.

“You don’t get to do that to me anymore,” I say. My voice isn’t as tough as I’d like, but it’s good enough. “How does this feel, Killian? To not have all the control?”

His lips form a white line.

“What? Do you not like it?” A smile tugs at my lips as a sense of power sinks in. I apply more pressure, and he steps back, just as slowly as before. I follow in step, loving how I can finally show him what it feels like. “I have an idea,” I say in a dark voice I didn’t know I had. “Tell me you love me.”

His eyes widen.

I laugh in disbelief. “Not so fun to have the words ripped out of your throat, is it? Say it!”

He grunts.