Page 18 of After Our Kiss

“I'm not doing anything you say. I'm not a willing captive, asshole.”

His hand was like iron when he gripped my chin. With ease, he tipped my head back, splashing water into my face. “You've got sand in your eyes. If we don't wash it out, it could do permanent damage.”

Coughing, I turned away when he let me go. Blinking furiously, I silently admitted that my eyes felt much better now. One act of kindness didn't make up for what he'd done to me, though.

My vision was blurry as I looked back at him. Conway was crouched with his forearms resting on his knees. Then I noticed he was looking downwards. Following his gaze, I saw that the water had turned my white dress transparent. Chelsea had convinced me not to wear a bra because it was backless, and bra straps were “tacky” according to her.

I'd used the adhesive skin-colored pasties she'd given me. At some point they'd slid off, sticking to the inside of the dress but not at all hiding my obviously visible nipples.

Conway leveled his stare—we were eye to eye, silently studying each other in this new moment. It reminded me of years ago, sitting with him on a bed as we shared an erotic story.

I glimpsed his lust. He saw me glimpse it.

Suddenly he broke away, standing stiffly; a wooden soldier come to life. “Get comfortable. This will be a long drive.”

Flushing, I jerked my head to the side, taking my body with it. My arms and knees bunched together; I was a tight ball of humiliated fury. “You honestly can't believe you'll get away with this. Your dad didn't.”

Squeezing the edge of the van door, he hunched his shoulders. “I'm not my dad.”

Then I was alone.