by Pam Godwin
I folded my arms and put another foot of distance between us, backing toward the foyer. No one made me more uncomfortable in my own house, in my own skin, than my own brother.
He seemed pissed that I wasn’t rising to his bait by responding. “You’re my slut, aren’t you, Lex?” He pushed off the couch, as if he only now realized I was retreating, and gripped my arms. “My little whore who loves to be fucked.”
“You’re hurting me,” I said, barely above a whisper, but his fingers pressed harder when I tried to pull away.
“Not as much as you’re hurting me!” He drove forward and slammed me into the wall, trapping both wrists on either side of my face. “You know we belong together. You’ll never keep me away. Never.”
“Let me go.”
He brought his face close, lip slightly curled, and his hazel eyes stalled on the ring adorning my left hand. I unfurled my fist until the large diamond scraped the wall, hidden from his line of view. “I won’t stand by and watch you marry that bastard. I’ll kill myself, just like your mom.”
I gasped as the familiar, crushing reminder of Mom ate away at what was left of me. I had no words for him, no protests or pleas. He tossed out the threat to hurt me, like he always did. I wondered if he’d go through with it this time. I tried to imagine him gone, but instead of despair, I found the remnants of sorrow and the promise of relief. Shame accompanied both, as I shouldn’t feel sorrow after the things he’d done, and I shouldn’t feel relief because he was still my brother.
“Say something!” He cried, shaking me, his face a contortion of bewilderment. “Didn’t you hear me? I’m not kidding! I’ll do it.”
“You don’t know what you’re saying. You’ve been drinking—”
“I know exactly what I’m saying. I don’t wanna live if I can’t have you. Say you won’t marry him.”
“I won’t marry him.” I swallowed hard and counted the seconds. Five in, hold, five out. Repeat. All the while, I prayed he’d let the issue drop, let me go and walk out the door.
He had other things in mind. His mouth smashed against mine, tongue forcing my lips apart and plundering. I didn’t fight him. I’d learned long ago it didn’t do any good. He’d only get rougher, meaner, and in turn, my fucked up body would only get off easier.
I kept my eyes shut and wished to be somewhere else. Anywhere else. The distinctive slide of his zipper rang loudly in my ears, and his hands blazed where he cupped my ass and lifted.
“That’s my girl,” he breathed as I automatically wound my legs around him, dress bunching at my waist. He pulled my panties to the side and pushed in with a grunt. His fingers banded around my wrists, pinned them to the wall above my head, and he pounded into me, shoving me higher with each forceful thrust. I held back the vomit burning in my throat.
One more thrust, another grunt. “No more Lucas,” he said.
“No more Lucas.” My face tightened as his tempo increased.
“No more avoiding me.”
I agreed to that too. I agreed to anything he wanted when he fucked me. The alternative always left me battered, bruised, and torn to pieces emotionally because the more I fought him, the more he set out to hurt me beyond what I could handle, and that usually meant he brought up Rafe and what he could do to him if I didn’t comply.
That threat carried more weight than ever.
Zach didn’t last long, probably because it’d been a couple of weeks since he’d last cornered me alone. Lucas’ presence had gone a long way in offering some form of protection, but I wasn’t so naive as to think he could act as a barrier forever. Even marrying him wouldn’t do that.
Zach finally loosened his grasp and allowed my feet to touch the floor. I rubbed my arms where the red impressions from his fingers marred my skin, making the faint, white scars from my nails more noticeable. He took my face in his hands, fingers gouging my jaw, and his gaze bored into me, through me.
“You didn’t get off.”
“I did,” I said quickly, because not reaching orgasm always angered him. “I swear I—”
“You didn’t get off. Don’t try to fake it. I’ll always know.” Stepping back, he gestured toward my dress. “Take it off.”
“C’mon, Zach, you don’t have—”
“Take it off.”
I unzipped the dress and let it fall to my feet, and my breasts jiggled in their braless state. He shoved me across the room, down to the couch, and forced my thighs open. Sinking to his knees, he yanked me toward his mouth until my ass was half off the couch, my legs dangling on either side of his shoulders.
The instant he tore my panties from my body, my mind went blank, as the sounds of my cries were too degrading to acknowledge. I vaguely recalled him twisting my nipples in unforgiving pinches, then slapping my breasts hard. He jammed his fingers into my pussy mercilessly, and after he’d compelled an orgasm from me, he made me suck my own cum off, shoving his fingers deep into my mouth as he emphasized how he was the one who had made me come.
Only me, Lex. No one else.
Then he was gone, and I was in the scalding shower, eyes squeezed shut, fists crossed over tender breasts to keep from bloodying my knuckles on the tile. The only drops of water on my cheeks came from the shower head. I never cried. I didn’t allow myself the luxury. My breaths came out in soft shudders, and I tried to keep myself in one piece as I recalled what he’d asked before he left.
Do you still love him?
My denial hadn’t placated him, and his parting words blared through my head, more forceful than my shame. If you go anywhere near him, I’ll fuck him up for life. He’s a lot easier to get to now, isn’t he?
The thought of my brother hurting Rafe terrified me, so I’d told Zach I hadn’t heard from him. A lie, because I was pretty sure the note came from Rafe.
Was this always going to be my life? Lies upon lies, sprinkled with the occasional half-truth?
I could leave. I’d considered it before, had even tried once, though I only made it halfway to the California border before chickening out. Too many people close to me had suffered, like the guy I’d teamed up with my Junior year for a science project. He made the mistake of hitting on me, and Zach had given him the nastiest beat down of his life, leaving broken bones and bloody flesh in his wake. Dad’s money swept that one under the rug.
There had been others, some no one knew about because Zach was intimidating enough without his reputation as a fighter to keep most quiet. They suffered his rage in silence. Fear of retaliation wasn’t the only thing keeping me from fleeing though. I’d hung on to the stupid, absurd, fanciful hope that Rafe would someday forgive me.
Impossible. What I’d done was unforgivable.
Standing at a crossroads of sorts, I needed to find the strength to move on with my life. I glanced at the enormous engagement ring Lucas had pushed onto my finger earlier that night. No matter what Dad believed, tying myself to a man I didn’t love wouldn’t fix anything. Neither would continuing to allow Zach free rein of my puppet strings.
For the first time in your life, Alexandra, do the right thing.
The voice sounded like my father’s. Certainly, the words were something he’d say, something he’d said again and again every time I fucked up. And I fucked up a lot. My whole life was one big fuck up.
I shut off the water, wrapped a towel around my body, and entered the bedroom, then changed into jeans and a sweatshirt before pulling a duffle from the closet. I blindly flung clothes onto the bed and stuffed some into the bag. The stash of cash I’d saved, tucked underneath the mattress, also went inside. Lastly, I tossed in my wallet. I didn’t need anything else. Just myself and the courage to leave.
That was the hard part.
I took off the ring and let it drop onto the nightstand, then I closed my eyes and envisioned my escape. I’d walk down the hall, feet sinking into the plush runner one last time. I saw myself crack the door open and peek outside, saw myself hop down the stairs of the porch, my paranoid gaze buzzing aro
und as I approached the Volvo Dad had given me for graduation.
The alluring taste of freedom, only a few feet away, tempted with promise. I just had to close the distance and take the first step. I left the bedroom and moved toward the foyer, like a teenager sneaking out past curfew. I felt like a child, excitement fluttering in my belly as my hand neared the doorknob.
Trepidation also stirred in my gut. If I disappeared, would Zach really hurt Rafe, a man he’d once called his best friend?
A knock sounded, and I jerked my fingers back. A few tense seconds passed before the knock repeated. For someone terrified of escaping the shackles of a life unwanted, I should have given more thought to the possibilities on the other side of that door. Swinging the duffle to my back, I pulled it open, and my breath whooshed from me as I uttered his name.
“Rafe.”
He was here, standing in front of me, and my knees almost buckled, weaker now than when I’d first spied his note upon returning home. A violent blast of air and rain blew in with his presence, carrying a hint of roses from the bushes off the porch. The aroma infused me with a sense of serenity despite the darkness shadowing my street.
I was the perfect prey in that moment, too stunned to keep my head. I stumbled back, a mistake on my part because he was the second man that night to shove his way into my house.
Copyright © 2014 Gemma James
To my critique partners—Lindsey R. Loucks, Lindy Winter, Jill Bitner, Cristen Abrams, Aries75, and John Kang—for whipping through this book like Speedy McJesus and turning my watery words into wine. My God, your swift and succinct advice was nothing short of miraculous. I owe you all huge slobbery kisses.
To beta reader Jeanice Monson, for saving little girls in dark parking lots from harebrained writers. Your opinions are canny and thoughtful, and I’m a lucky bitch to have your friendship.
To Author E.M. Abel, for reading my stuff, for your endless encouragement, and for being such a down-to-earth, bad-ass writerly chic. I adore you.
To Author Christina Jean Michaels, for beta reading with an edgy mind and a sharp eye. Your advice had me smiling and sighing, and I might’ve done a little fist pumping and booty-shaking. Here’s to the start of an exciting working relationship and friendship.
To Author Barbara Elsborg, for beta reading with your ever-loving brilliance and quickness. Your wealth of experience and sophistication awes and motivates me. I’m forever your fangirl.
To my proofreader, Lesa Godwin, for being the final and most crucial stamp of approval. YOU are the reason I’m able to sleep tonight. I love you, sis!
To my best friend, Amber, for dealing with me in addition to the much more important burdens you’re hauling around. You are the most selfless, dependable, put-together person I know. I’d fall apart without you. So yeah... I love you.
New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author, Pam Godwin, lives in the Midwest with her husband, their two children, and a foulmouthed parrot. When she ran away, she traveled fourteen countries across five continents, attended three universities, and married the vocalist of her favorite rock band.
Java, tobacco, and dark romance novels are her favorite indulgences, and might be considered more unhealthy than her aversion to sleeping, eating meat, and dolls with blinking eyes.
You can follow her at pamgodwin.com
A Note to Those Who Haven't Read Deliver
Prologue
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Other Books by Pam Godwin
Preview of Torrent by Gemma James
Acknowledgments
About the Author