God help me, I’m fucking losing it…
I’ve been through too damn much these past forty-eight hours and now the wires are crossing in my brain.
I should be disgusted and repulsed by this man.
Not getting fucking turned on by him.
Leaning down until his nose is nearly touching my nose, Coy grits out, “He’s my son and I’m a fuckin’ stranger to him. Hell, he’s a stranger to me.”
I press back against the pillow beneath my head, trying to put some space between us, but there’s no fucking give.
Staring into his eyes, into the dark blue that’s slowly blackening into an abyss, I don’t know who’s crazier…
Me or him?
How can he believe Levi is his?
Yes, in the heat of the moment, I was almost convinced there was a possibility. Yet, here and now, I can’t believe it.
I agree and accept that they look alike, almost eerily alike.
Staring back at Coy, my heart and breathing racing, there’s no denying it.
They have the same hair color, the same color of eyes, and maybe their bone structure is similar…
But does that really prove it?
Besides the fact I truly have no fucking clue who he is and I can’t recall ever meeting him in my life, in order for me to believe that Levi is Coy’s, I’d have to believe I somehow met him during the time I don’t remember.
In order to believe that I’d also have to believe my parents lied to me.
My parents would never lie to me.
Why would they?
What would they have to gain?
My parents were upstanding Christians and worked for the very church they worshipped in. They devoted their lives to improving the lives of others and spreading the faith.
To think they would purposely deceive me, that they would keep Levi from knowing his father…
It’s inconceivable to me.
No, all my life, all my parents have done is love me and try to protect me. They even tried to protect us from Mikhail…
And it cost them in the end.
I can’t sully their memory or what they sacrificed by thinking the worst of them.
Not for a second.
Coy doesn’t strike me as a stupid man though. Big, intimidating, and brash, yes. But not stupid.
And given everything he’s done, I’m pretty damn sure he’s not lying to me.
No, there must be a reason or an unfortunate coincidence causing him to believe what he believes.
The only thing I can think of is that there must be another Allie out there somewhere, another Allie who looks like me.
They say everyone has a doppelganger… She could be mine…
Ugh, it all seems so bizarre and far-fetched, but it’s the only explanation I can come up with at the moment.
Coy is scaring the crap out of me, but I get the impression it’s because he’s hurt. Beneath that angry look on his face is pain.
This other Allie, she must have meant a lot to him. They were probably lovers. Yes, they were definitely lovers if he believes Levi is his.
“Look… I think there’s been a misunderstanding…” I say softly and Coy instantly stiffens above me.
“Oh?” he grits out, his fingers flexing around my neck.
I swallow nervously and pray he believes what I’m about to say, because if he doesn’t…
Fuck, I don’t even want to think about what will happen if he insists on believing this craziness.
“I’m not your Allie and Levi isn’t your son,” I say quickly before I lose all my nerve.
When he just stares at me, I feel the need to add, “There’s been a mistake. I swear I don’t know you, and Levi’s father died in an accident.”
Coy closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, his nostrils flaring again as he releases it.
I can’t tell if he’s coming to terms with what I said or if he’s trying to keep himself from strangling me to death.
When his eyes finally do open again after a few breaths, it’s clear it’s definitely the later.
“You’re not my Allie? You don’t know me?” he asks harshly. “That’s how you want to play this?”
I frown, not liking what he’s implying. “It’s not a game—”
“You’re damn right it’s not,” he snaps, cutting me off at the same time his hand squeezes around my neck.
Deprived of air, I grab at his hand and try to pull him off me.
Grabbing my hand with his other hand, he pins it to the bed. “But if this is how you want to play, I’ll fuckin’ play.”
I’m not trying to play a game, I want to yell, my eyes pleading with him.
Desperate to be free, I try to use my left hand to yank him off, but he pushes forward, using the very arm he’s choking me with to trap it.
My lungs scream for oxygen and pressure builds inside my head.
A slow, wicked grin stretches across his lips as his knees push between my knees, spreading my legs open.
“You don’t know me? You don’t remember me, baby?” he practically purrs, clearly getting off on this.
Fuck. I should have lied, I realize too late as darkness begins to close in. I should have milked this misunderstanding for all it’s worth.
This bastard is going to kill me for being honest with him.
“Then let me remind you what it means to be mine,” he growls so low all the little hairs on my body stand on end.
His grip around my throat suddenly eases, but before I can draw in a full breath, his mouth comes down on my mouth in a crushing kiss.
I try to turn my head, try to break away, but the fucker is relentless. He chases me, not letting me get away.
And still, my lungs are fucking screaming.
My body begging me to find a way to get more air.
What I’m pulling in through my nose isn’t enough to make up for the deprivation.
With no other choice, I open my mouth against his, hoping to get a little air from him.
His tongue immediately sweeps in, tangling with mine.
I try to fight it off, try to push it out, but he must take it as me kissing him back.
He groans into my mouth as I gasp against him and his weight starts to come down on me.
His hips touch my thighs, and even though I feel like I’m fighting for my fucking life here, that thrill of excitement is back, tenfold.
God help me, I don’t know why my body is responding to him like it is. I don’t know why the damn thing is betraying me.
I try one last time to shove his tongue out of my mouth, but when he shoves his back so hard it nearly goes down my throat, I give up.
This is madness, utter fucking madness.
One moment he’s strangling me to death and the next he’s kissing me like he’ll die if he doesn’t.
I don’t know what to make it of it, and I don’t know what will happen next.
All I know is that I have to get away, I have to find a way to get free.
There’s no reasoning with someone like him.
He’s fucking psycho and he still might kill me.
Twisting, straining, gasping, I struggle to get free of him and these damn tingles overtaking my body.
“Fuck, Allie, you taste even better than I remember,” he rasps, giving me just enough time to finally take a full breath before he attacks me again.
But the more air I get, the more aware I become of his taste.