Page 114 of I’m The Worst

Not now.

I reach across, my hand locking around her shoulder. “Listen to me. We’re not getting caught. If you follow⁠—”

She’s already gone. Her eyes glazed over, her breaths breaking apart in rapid bursts.

“Solnyshko.” I grab her chin and force her to look at me. “Look at me.”

Her gaze flickers, barely there.

“Stay with me.”

Her breath stutters, chest hitching as she starts trembling. And something in me snaps.

“No one is taking you from me.” I won’t let them touch you again.

Unlocking her seatbelt, I drag her across the console and into my lap, ignoring the way my side twinges.

“Here.” I take her small hand and press it flat against my chest. “Feel that.” My heartbeat slams powerfully under her palm. “Feel my heart. Just breathe.”

My arm wraps tight around her waist, holding her in place while I steer one-handed, the wheel jerking under my grip as I push the SUV faster. Her fingers curl into my shirt, clutching, her face burying into my chest. Her shaking doesn’t stop. It just shifts, moving through me.

I feel all of it—every tremor, every uneven breath, every inch of her pressed against me—and I don’t pull away.

“Keep breathing.” I speak against her hair, inhaling deeply. She smells like sex and me. “Don’t think. Just—stay here.”

With me.

My hold tightens.

The engine roars louder as I push the speed higher, weaving through traffic, ice kicking up under the tires.

We’re not stopping.

We’re not slowing down.

And no one is taking her from me.

His heartbeat is hard against my palm, my fingers twisted in his shirt. I don’t know how long we’ve been driving. My breathing evened out a while ago. The panic passed. But he hasn’t let me go.

I shift just enough to see his face. His jaw is locked tight, gaze fixed on the road. Tears burn behind my eyes, and I let my head fall back against his chest, closing them.

Everything hurts.

My body. My head. My ass is throbbing, a cruel reminder of how fucked up I am. How disgusting and ruined I’ve become.

I want to talk to him, to explain, but I don’t know how.

What do I say? That being used by him feels better than being nothing to him?

The thought makes my stomach churn.

I would rather he ruin me than look at me like I’m invisible.

I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to push the thoughts away. But they just keep coming. I can still feel the stretch of my ass, the way his hands held me down, the way he spoke to me—like I was just a hole to fuck. But that look on his face after…

That was⁠—

I swallow roughly.