Page 186
He smiles a sad, sad smile. “And I get to touch you, you beautiful girl.” He kisses my hair. “You hold me to my old life,” he whispers. “You and…” His voice trails off. “Come, we’d better go.”
He puts his hands around my waist and pushes me up so I’m standing. He jumps up beside me and takes my hand.
“Have we run out of time?”
“Nearly. We have time for one more kiss.” And he folds me into his arms, his fingers sliding over my hair, as his lips tentatively find mine. This kiss is different, sweeter, softer, and giving. I groan into his mouth. “Wake up, Beauchamp,” he whispers.
I woke with a start and opened my eyes. Staring down at me was the thin, cruel face of Pete Webster.
Chapter XX Frozen
“Looky here, I get a bonus prize.”
Webster’s voice was soft and sibilant, and it paralyzed me with terror. He leered rather than smiled, revealing cracked, stained teeth, and I struggled to breathe as fear choked my throat. My thoughts spun out of control. How did he get in? How long had he been here? Where was Dylan?
Oh no! Dylan!
Was he okay?
Webster, who was standing beside the bed, cocked his head to one side, his dirt-blond corkscrew curls vibrating with the movement. “Pretty little thing, aren’t you.” He leaned down, and I caught a whiff of cheap cologne masking his stale body odor. It made my skin crawl. Too late, I realized my top had ridden up, revealing my midriff and my belly as my jeans rode low on my hips.
The duvet was tangled around my legs. Abruptly, he ripped the duvet off the bed and tossed it on the floor. My horror tripled and tears sprang to my eyes.
No. No. No. Not this!
Why can’t I move?
He ran a calloused thumb down my cheek, along my jaw to my chin, and still I couldn’t move. “You’re not going to give me any trouble, are you?” His feral brown eyes narrowed, and he licked his lips—a starved predator eyeing his prey. His thumb traced down my neck to my sternum and the edge of my top.
Bile rose in the back of my throat as I shrank from his touch. From far away, I heard an inhuman whimper, and it took me a nanosecond to realize the harrowing sound came from me.
“There, there,” he whispered as he hooked his index finger into the vee of my tank. “Just play nice.”
At last, my adrenal system kicked in.
“No!” My voice was a hoarse, hollow whisper, and I tried to roll out of his reach.
“Come here!” he bellowed, grabbing my shoulders and pushing me flat on the mattress. He moved quickly, straddling me and grabbing both of my hands, pinning them on either side of my head.
“You’re far too pretty to let go,” he sneered.
“No!” This time, my scream bounced off the walls, and fueled by rage and fear, I bucked and kicked, trying to throw him off. He pulled my hands above my head and secured them with one hand. With the other, he grabbed my chin.
“Calm the fuck down, bitch,” he snarled, his mouth centimeters from mine.
“Get. Off. Me.” Anger subdued my fear as adrenaline coursed through my body, choosing fight.
What to do? What to do?
My breathing was quick and shallow. I needed time to think.
Think, Emily, think!
“That’s better,” he hissed, and I struggled not to gag at the stench of his breath. Up close, I could see the pockmarks that marred his skin. He licked his lips once more. “How about we start with a little kiss?”
I twisted away from him, and abruptly, he disappeared, knocked flying off the bed.
“Get your fucking filthy paws off her, you fucking cunt!” Tristan roared. He stood like a dark avenging angel over a confused Webster, who lay sprawled on the floor.
