There’s absolutely no logical or sane reason for feeling it. Absolutely none. Especially when I’m pissed at him.
I’m not the kind of girl who can get turned on just by seeing a set of rock-hard defined abs.
Hell, Mikhail is almost as muscular as Coy, and when he dropped his pants all I usually felt was dread.
And yet it’s there, a slight throbbing ache right between my thighs. Right in that place that’s still sore after what he did to me last night.
Coy walks up to the tub and once I figure out what he plans to do, I let go of my knees and start to get to my feet, ready to bolt.
Only to be shoved back down by a heavy hand on my shoulder.
The water rocks and splashes over the edge, but Coy doesn’t seem to give a shit as he climbs in.
“What the hell are you doing?!” I ask as he squeezes into the tub behind me and wraps his arms around me.
Yanking me back into his chest, my naked ass bumps against his cock.
My mind blanks.
Thank god, it’s soft, is all I can think for a moment.
Then he growls, “Holding you,” into my ear.
A little unwanted tingle slithers down my spine at the touch of his warm breath.
A little tingle that reminds me I need to keep distance between us.
“Why, goddammit?!” I nearly screech as I squirm and try to escape him. “I don’t want you to hold me! I want you to go away!”
Because, god help me, every time he touches me, he makes me feel things I shouldn’t be feeling.
I can’t remember him, I can’t. I’ve tried and tried. Even replaying what Poster Boy said hasn’t triggered any deeply buried memories. That one flash of his face when I looked at Levi must have been a fluke because I can’t find Coy anywhere else in my brain.
Yet, when he touches me… there’s… something. Not memories… not the kind you can see, hear, or taste, but something that’s so intense and intangible at the same time it scares the hell out of me.
“That’s too fucking bad,” he grunts as my elbow gets him in the ribs.
He releases me for a second, only long enough to reposition his arms around my arms, then he squeezes me until I stop moving. “Because you fucking need it and you’re gonna fucking accept it.”
Nearly choking on the sob crawling out of my throat, I bend forward and shake my head back and forth. “I don’t need it. I don’t need you!”
I need space. Some part of me he can’t invade. I need to figure out some way to come out on the other side of this mess in one piece without him completely destroying me.
“The fuck you don’t,” he says harshly and uses his arms to pull me back until my spine is against his chest. “You need it. You need me, Allie. Deny it all you want, but it’s the fucking truth. You’re my woman, goddammit, and I’m going to take care of you.”
I continue to shake my head back and forth.
I’m not his woman and I don’t want him to take care of me.
That woman he loved, the one he wants me to be, died in that accident. She’s gone.
I can’t find her anywhere and I don’t think she’s coming back.
And me… I just want to be free.
“I know you’re going through some shit in your head. I know that you’re fucking scared and want to run. I know it because I fucking know you, and I saw the fucking proof when I got home.” He takes a deep breath and shudders a little before he growls so deeply it rumbles out of him. “But goddammit, Allie, you don’t gotta be scared of me. I’m the last fucking person you should be afraid of. I meant it when I told you you’ll never be safer than when you’re with me. I’ll kill any motherfucker that hurts you.”
Unable to counter his strength, I finally give up on trying to squirm my way free and collapse against him.
Clenching my eyes shut, I try hard to fight off the sense of utter fucking helplessness overwhelming me.
Does he even hear himself?
He claims to know I have some shit going on in my head. He claims to know me…
But he doesn’t know me at all.
If he did then he’d realize his mistake.
He’d realize the only motherfucker that is hurting me is him and he should fucking shoot himself if he wants to protect me.
Mistaking the end of my struggle as acquiescence, his arms loosen around me until his hold becomes something that’s close to tenderness.
And pressed against him, my naked body against his naked body, it’s the tenderness I can’t stand. The tenderness killing me inside.
I’ll take his anger, I’ll take his violence.
But, god help me, anything else is pure fucking death.
I start to twist around in his hold and his arms immediately tense only to relax once he realizes I’m not trying to escape.
Needing to be face to face, needing to look him in the eyes on even ground, I grab onto his shoulder and position myself until I’m sitting on his lap.
Wet skin slides against wet skin and despite my current mental state, my flesh is thrumming from the sensation.
“Allie,” he exhales.
His lids lower as he looks down at me, and I feel his cock swelling against my thigh.
I take a moment, a moment I didn’t get last night, to get familiar with his body. I take in his broad shoulders, the hard muscles of his chest. All the different tattoos inked into his skin. I even glance down at his waist, taking in that big cock standing up at attention.
Then I lift my eyes, meet his, and tell him, “I still don’t remember you, Coy.”
Raw pain flashes in his eyes, pain that quickly transforms into anger.
“You will,” he growls, and his hands slide down my back.
Grabbing my ass, he pulls me into him until my pussy is pressed up hard against his cock.
Shaking my head, I don’t know whether to laugh or cry, so I do a little bit of both. “You can’t bully me into it, Coy! I don’t remember you. I don’t know you. Do you get that? Do you understand that? You’re a complete fucking stranger to me!”
Coy’s fingers dig into my ass, squeezing and kneading me as he insists, “You will remember—”
“And what if I can’t?” I gasp at him. “I’ve tried, Lord knows I’ve tried. But that girl, that girl you want, that girl you think is sitting in the tub with you right now, she’s gone, Coy. She died in that accident and she might not come back.”
Coy freezes for a split second, like I just hit him.
Then he shakes his head in denial, and all it does is piss me off more. He’s still not getting it. He still wants to believe whatever stupid fantasy he has in his thick skull. The stupid fantasy of me being her and coming back after all these years.
This won’t end in a happily ever after…
Grabbing his face, I stare hard into his dark eyes and tell him, “The girl who loved you is dead. I’m not her! How many times do I have to say it? How many times? She’s fucking gone. Gone! And me? I don’t fucking love you! How could I? I don’t fucking know you. And after all the shit you’ve put me through, I don’t even like you!”
His jaw clenches, his teeth grinding together, and when he starts to open his mouth, I know, I just know he’s going to say something stupid, so I don’t give him the chance.