Not less than thirty bloody seconds later and he’s on me again, dragging me by my hair to the wall with my arm twisted behind me, where he pins me face first up against it and holds me with his body weight. For all my forethought, I don’t have a bloody chance. I don’t feel anything until the moment he attacks. Shit. I’m obviously not beating him with strength or agility, so I continue with my useless struggling a little in an effort to think of another way of manipulating this situation. His fingers dig in tighter and I wince a little.
“Did he feel good bent over you, about to fuck you? You wanted it, didn’t you? Were you begging for it?” he sneers as he grabs hold of the back of my trousers and begins to tug at them. Something in me literally explodes at his words, or actions. I haven’t got a clue but all thoughts of manipulation evaporate as I swing my head backward to connect with his and kick out with my legs again. Rage I never knew I had flows through me at the thought of that man and what he nearly did to me. I don’t feel the dull ache that has spread across the back of my head. I don’t feel the pain that’s consuming my wrist as I struggle against his hold. All I can feel is body weight that I don’t want on me and the memory of a man trying to rape me.
“Get the fuck off me!” I scream out loudly as I throw my head back again, instantly feeling the crunch of bone and yank at my arm until I feel it loosening. His other hand comes to my throat and before he can reach it, I swing my head and clamp my teeth down against his fingers. He grunts in response and tries to still my feet by pushing his body weight harder against me. In a split second, his hold loosens enough for me to pull my arm away and slam my elbow back into his ribs.
He wheezes out a breath as I release my teeth and he grabs at me but I’ve already spun around and thrown my nails towards his face. He ducks but it’s enough to allow me to push him away hard with my other hand, and as he stumbles back a little, it’s all I need to launch myself at him with full force. I have no idea what I’m doing anymore but I can’t seem to stop myself from attacking him. I know it’s Alex but all I can see is the unknown face of a man. “FUCK YOU!” I scream again as I keep shoving and hitting out at his skin. Memories of the toilet door and the sink and his words in my ear only intensify my rage as I feel my nails shred his skin again. “Don’t fucking touch me.”
I see glimpses of Alex’s eyes and mouth as he retreats backwards and lets me keep hitting him, so I continue, letting all of my frustration and anger pound into him. Screaming at him as he ducks here and there, I focus every violent blow at him to the point of seeing nothing else but blind fury until he stops and I realise he’s hit the wall behind him. My arm comes back for another lunge without any thought to him and I release it with the intent of causing damage, but he grabs it before it connects so I raise the other one. He grabs that one, too, and tries to hold me still but I keep struggling, apparently still not content with my fight as his grip tightens around my wrists.
“Stop now, Elizabeth,” he says quietly as he brings my fists to his chest. The snarl that leaves my mouth at his command has never before left my lips and even surprises me as I continue with my twisting movements with little effect.
“Fuck you. Let go of me,” I yell into his face.
One of his hands suddenly grasps both of my wrists while his other arm wraps around me to pull me closer and he rests his chin on my head. “Shh, baby, slow down. I’ve got you,” comes whispering at me. I can feel his heart in his chest as he continues with more soothing words to calm me, and eventually I haven’t got anything left so I let the cloud clear and relax into him as his grip softens around me.
Finally, he quietly lets me go and sits down on the floor in front of me without uttering another word. I have no idea what I’m supposed to say to any of that. What the hell was that? Even I don’t know where any of that anger came from and I absolutely didn’t know I was capable of it. In fact, I’m pretty sure I could have killed him if he hadn’t stopped me. What on earth was he trying to achieve? No idea. I’m confused yet again. Trust him to make me feel all over the sodding place. I collapse on the floor in front of him and try to process the last... however long it’s been.
“Lights,” he eventually says and I blink as the room lights up around us, then gasp as I look at his face. Blood trickles from his nose, and as I lower my gaze, I realise how much damage I’ve done to his torso. His beautiful body is marred with deep scratch marks and reddened patches. My eyes shoot back up to his in shock. “Mmm, feisty little thing, aren’t you? You’ll do very well when you’re trained properly,” he says as he wipes his nose and gazes back at me. “I’m impressed.”
“Alex, I.... shit. I don’t know what happened. I don’t even know where that came from,” I reply awkwardly. I haven’t got anything else to say and I’m certainly not saying sorry. He made me do it. Well, I think he did. I don’t even know if that’s true or not. Did he have to say some of those things? I suppose if he was after anger, he did find it in me. Smartarse.
“It’s called rage, baby, and believe me, I know the feeling very well. I’m going to teach you how to harness it and manipulate it. By the time I’m finished, no one will ever touch you again without your permission.” His brow furrows as he pulls himself up. “Not even me.”
He extends his hand to me so I take it and tentatively wipe some blood from his nose. His smile lifts the mood as he gazes down at me with soft blues. “I’m sorry,” he says quietly while he leads me to the door.
“What for? The words or the pain?” I reply with a small grin. His mouth curls up into a smirk as his eyes twinkle with amusement.
“Both, but mainly the words. I just needed a way to rile you,” he replies as he scoops up my shoes and jacket, well, Belle’s. “You needed to hate me for this to happen. You need to learn how to hate.”
“It appears you know me well, Mr. White. Let’s hope I know how to push the same buttons on you should I ever need them.” I can’t think I’ll ever need to provoke his anger. I’m pretty sure it bubbles millimetres underneath his skin most of the time, but the thought that I could is enjoyable nonetheless.
“I think you press buttons very effectively already. In fact, you can press those ones there,” he replies as he inclines his head to the side of the door. There’s a keypad on the right of it so I raise my hand. “Ten sixty six.” I roll my eyes and smirk at the Battle of Hastings date, yet another war. Punching in the code, the door releases instantly. No wonder I couldn’t get out.
“What is this room?” I ask as I glance back into it and notice a few other doors leading off it.
“It’s a safe room, somewhere to hide out in case of emergencies or intruders. There’s a bathroom and fully stocked kitchen over there, automatic lock outs and an intelligent computer system so you can monitor the house and call for help if need be. Suffice to say, it’s supposed to be a good place to flee the danger,” he replies with an ironic chuckle as he walks out, grabs my hand again and leads us through the atrium. My eyes wander over his bare back with sheer lust pouring from me. I have no idea why I’m suddenly feeling this way when five minutes ago I wanted to kill him. Well, not him, but someone who happened to be him at the time.
“Well, that’s good to know, but what on earth were you doing in there?”
I can’t help watching the way his tattoo moves under the pressure of his movements as he turns and bends around the corners. The beautiful script of belligerence stretching across his broad muscular shoulders evokes a feeling of aggression and then the dates reminding me of a man who’s thoughtful and almost repentant of his life. I wish I knew what all those dates meant to him. I’ll ask him at some point.
“It’s dark in there. I like the dark. It gives me the space I need to calm down,” he replies as he ducks through the next door and heads for the kitchen. Oh right, I have no idea what that means. Why would anyone want to sit in the dark? And calm down from what exactly? The man is still a complete enigma sometimes and quite possibly insane, given the last hour or so. I’m sure most m
en would have just given their girlfriends a few rounds in the gym and shown them some self-defence moves. Clearly Alex isn’t most men. I’m not that surprised now I think about it.
“And you were in need of calming down because?” I ask, walking straight over to the medical cupboard as we reach the kitchen to retrieve wipes and various creams. He shrugs but doesn’t elaborate any further, so I point at a chair and raise an eyebrow assertively. He looks down at his chest with a frown and reluctantly sits as I put the stuff on the table and begin cleaning up my attacking frenzy.
Unfortunately, the effect of his battered body seems to be causing the same undesirable response from my groin, which is quickly making my hands tremble with more lust. It must be that hunter-gatherer thing because I’m sure I should be feeling sad that I did this or even caring about his pain or something, but I’m not. I just appear to want more rough and tumble, preferably of the sexual kind. Does that mean I’ve suddenly become the hunter? I still haven’t got a clue. Why would I be enjoying watching him flinch every time I swipe the antiseptic over his cuts? This has to be some sort of power thing that I’m not aware of.
“Feeling dominant, Elizabeth?” he says as I wipe at a particularly nasty scrape on his ribs. Of course he would know exactly what I’m feeling better than I would, wouldn’t he? Arse.
Is that what I’m feeling? Is this what it does to him? Does being aggressive simply breed more aggression? It certainly feels like it to me at the moment because before I realise what I’m doing, I’m grazing my finger over another cut at his collarbone and climbing across him, licking my lips. His smirk does nothing to deter me from my mission, which is apparently to take control of some sort. He clearly doesn’t agree as he pushes me off him, cradles my head and has me on my back on the tile floor in seconds. “Appealing as it may have been at the time, it’s my turn now so I suggest you behave yourself,” he says as he grabs my wrist, pins it at my side and mumbles something about being perfect beneath his breath.
I can’t even say I’m struggling because I’m really not doing anything to stay in control at all as I happily let him have his way and moan out his name while he buries his head between my legs.
I seriously doubt that dominance is my forte. Yes, I might be feeling that way inclined but there’s no denying who’s in control here and it’s blatantly not me. I know this because I’m beginning to beg and I can feel the words leaving my mouth before I can even try to stop them. I also know this because as he tugs at my trousers and manoeuvres my legs around, I’m yearning for him to be rougher, harder, nastier even, and somehow he understands this. In some way he knows everything I need seconds before it even enters my brain, and while he grabs my hips to roll me onto my front, I can’t help smiling back at him.
“I think I’ve been bad,” I say teasingly as I pinch at my nail marks on his chest and then moan out as he takes hold of my throat and pulls my back to his front.
“Baby, you don’t know the meaning of bad. Let me show you,” he says in that low tone of his as he nudges me forward to the table. My hands begin to tremble as he pulls the cord off the curtains and ties my wrists to the circular support underneath then casually wanders off into the kitchen. He reappears a few minutes later, holding a teaspoon, a candle and a stack of paperwork, which he puts on the floor in front of my face. My eyebrows shoot up. I have no idea what’s coming next but those were the last items I imagined on a list of very bad things.
“Time for negotiations, Elizabeth,” he says as he lights the candle with a very wicked smile and darkening blues, his finger running up the inside of my leg.
“With a teaspoon?” I still have no idea.
“Mmm, with a teaspoon.”
The word teaspoon has never sounded so erotically tempting in my life.
Chapter 17
Elizabeth
I’ ve gone with a floaty, flirty creation. Given my afternoon of meeting with the new found sister, beating up my boyfriend and then being tied to the kitchen table, I’m thinking that maybe a bit of femininity is in order for the evening. It’s a deep blue lace affair of frills with off-the-shoulder details and a very nipped-in waist. It’s stunning, clearly one of the very expensive ones and absolutely beautiful. It’s also a bit short but sod it.
For once I feel overly girly but in an incredibly flirtatious sort of way, and as I swipe the last of my mascara on, I smile at at the thought of the afternoon’s entertainment. A bloody teaspoon - who would have thought it? I still haven’t got any words for it. Ingenious is the only one that’s anywhere near close. And negotiations my arse. Signing ownership papers for my new-found premises while being put under that sort of pressure wasn’t negotiating; it was... well, it wasn’t sodding negotiating.
Heading out the bedroom and downstairs to find him, I ponder how this evening is going to end. It’s ridiculous, I know, given that it hasn’t even started, but I can’t help but worry if he’s going to be okay or not. Obviously she seemed to be somewhat more relaxed by the time I left her, but she might not even turn up tonight. I did my best but what’s he going to be like if she decides not to turn up? Is it going to send him into one of his overly dark places or will he have enough clarity to realise that this is just as big for her as it is for him?
I so wish I had her phone number because I would be phoning her at this precise moment to find out what she’s doing so I can prepare myself for the outcome. Actually, should I tell him I went to see her? Is it going to piss him off if he finds out from her later? He clearly doesn’t like being lied to or manipulated. Will he see it that way? Conner will probably know these things because I seriously have no idea. He’s in a good mood, which is a start and not something I want to screw up in the slightest so I send a text to Conner in the hope of calming my sudden panicked state.
- Should I tell him I saw Evelyn this afternoon? He might flip out or something.
“You are not going out looking like that,” comes growling at me from behind as I turn towards the lounge. I spin round to see him looking absurdly glorious in a midnight blue suit. I could say the same if I’m honest. He’s looking dangerously good.
“You bought it. I actually protested if I remember rightly,” I reply as I wander over to him and kiss him on the nose. His hands immediately find their way under the loose skirt to my arse as he pulls me closer. It’s easy access for him and his sudden smile of naughtiness and wandering fingers suggest he’s just realised that himself.
“You’re stunning, but do not bend over at any point. Unless it’s in front of me, that is.” I giggle at him and turn my head as I hear the front door opening. Andrews walks in, coughs uncomfortably and then turns his back to us. I can’t help grinning back at Alex as he raises his brow and then chuckles.
“Sir, the car’s ready,” Andrews says in his MI5 voice. I let go of Alex and walk to the cupboard to get my coat.
“You can turn around now, Michael. I’m completely decent now,” I say as I watch him with his nose to the door. He doesn’t. He just walks out the door, refusing to look at us again. Alex helps me into my coat and walks me to the door.
“Do you have everything you need?” he asks as he scans my body.
“You’re everything I need,” I reply instantly as I grab hold of his hand. “Are you ready?”
It’s a loaded question. I know it and so does he. His eyes flicker across mine with emotions he’s not going to give me so I squeeze his hand, hoping that he gets the meaning of it. He nods at me and then kisses me as he leads us to the car.
The journey gives me no time to delve any deeper into his emotional state, and given that he seems exceptionally happy, I decide it’s simply not worth pushing the matter. I’ll simply stay close and deal with the effects later. Conner hasn’t bothered to respond so hopefully everything will be hunky dory and Evelyn Peters will arrive, be fabulous and we’ll all giggle the night away. It’s doubtful but I can always hope and at least Belle will be there for support.
“I’ve been thinking about
Christmas,” he says as he sips his Cognac and gazes across at me while we’re winging our way to the party.
“Oh god, I know. I haven’t bought a thing and I seriously need to get out there and hit those shops. It’s only a few weeks away and I’m useless when it comes to getting this stuff done,” I ramble back at him.
“Do you normally go to your parents?” he asks as his fingers graze their way up my thigh.
“Yes, but I didn’t know what you normally did and I haven’t had that much time to think about it.” I haven’t had time to think about anything.
“I was wondering if you’d like to invite your family to ours. With your mum being ill, I just thought maybe she’d like to be treated for the weekend.” Did he just say ours? Meaning his, I assume.
“Did you just say ours?” His eyebrow rises as if he’s rethinking what he just said. He’ll definitely change tack with that one.
“Yes.”
I stare in shock. My mouth opens and then closes again, his amused smirk continuing as if this is funny. He’s right because it is. It’s ridiculous.
“Are you suggesting I move in... again?” I can’t believe I said that out loud but given his previous comment when we did the coffee machine thing, and the whole what’s mine is yours note thing, I’m seriously beginning to wonder. He leans his head back onto the seat and turns his head toward me.
“Do you want to?” Oh! I stare again. Do I? No... Yes... Wow, I have no idea. This is so not expected.
“Alex, I...” I can’t speak. Why can I never speak? And why does he keep throwing new questions at me that I have no clue how to answer? It’s too early for that. Yes, I love him and I’m pretty sure he loves me, but seriously? Living together? Well, he has just given me a building because of the things I apparently give him in return. I still don’t really understand that if I’m honest. But shit...
Feeling White Page 37
