Page 8 of Dirty Beasts: Chance

I lift my chin, jerk it away. “Yeah, I fuckingknow.” I hold his gaze. “And what’s it to you, huh?You’redifferent? You want something else from me, do you? You’re gonna help me out of debt to Alvin fucking Robertson out of the goodness of your heart, are you?”

“Yeah, maybe I will.”

“Right.” I lift an eyebrow back at him. “And I’m Mother Theresa reborn.”

“You don’t have to leave, Annika.”

“I want to leave.”

“No, I don’t think you do. I think you’re scared and going back to what you know.”

“Literally, I just said better the devil you know. So yeah. Except I’m not scared, I just don’t know you and I don’t trust you—no offense, but I don’t trust anyone.”

He still has a hold on my hand—with no effort whatsoever, and with a gentility that takes my breath away, he unfolds my hand in his, despite my resistance. “You can trust me. I don’t want anything from you that you won’t eventually want to give me.”

I snort and yank my hand away. “Fuck you. I knowexactlywhatthatmeans,asshole.”

He shakes his head. “Not what you’re assuming.”

“Not what I’m assuming? I’m assuming you mean eventually you’ll decide my debt is due and you’ll take it from me one way or another—you’ll just tell yourself I wanted it.”

He rears back as if struck, and then throws my words back in my face. “You don’t know the first fucking thing about me.”

“You’re a man. That’s all I need to know.”

“That’s pretty damn sexist.”

“Oh, boo-hoo. Did I hurt your poor little feelings?” The sarcasm drips from my voice like acid. “I’ve fuckinglearnedtime and time again—men,allmen, wantonefucking thing from me. And they’ll do anything, go to any lengths and do any mental gymnastics to convince themselvesI want it.”

He puts his face in mine. “Not me.”

“Right.” I lean close and make my voice breathy, push my chest into him. “I know what you want. You wantthis, don’t you?” I writhe against him, knowing I’m baiting a bear, but too pissed off and freaked out to stop myself. “You wantme, don’t you? Wanna tap this ass? Tell all your buddies you tapped the tall gimpy redhead. Youearnedit, right? Yousavedme, after all, right? You deserve a reward.”

He doesn’t move. Just lets me writhe against him, pushing my crotch against his. Stares down at me with those deep brown eyes—I see compassion in them, understanding, sadness. Eventually, he puts a hand to my belly and presses me backward, taking a step back at the same time.

“Annika…that’snotwhat this is.” Again, the gentle voice.

“Then what is it?” I demand.

“Help.” He closes the distance again. Gentle brown eyes. Gentle voice. His thumb touches my chin beneath my lower lip—gently. “I’m offering you safety.”

My lungs squeeze hard, all the oxygen leaking out, and my heart thuds painfully. Panic, panic, panic. “Oh yeah? In exchange for what?”

“Nothing.”

“Not what you just said.”

“I said nothing you wouldn’t eventually want. And by that I mean, nothing you won’t eventually offer me yourself.”

“I’m gonna end up begging for your dick, you mean.”

He shakes his head. “Jesus, you’re cynical.” He shrugs. “You wanna see it that way, sure.” Another shuffled half step closer, so he’s in my space, so I’m breathing his air, looking up at him and trying to remember how to make my body cooperate so I can run the fuck away. “How about I make you a promise.”

I force oxygen into my lungs. I can’t move, I’m still stuck in place. “Fine, I’ll play along.” My voice is steady, but then, I’m always steady. Even when I’m freaking the hell out. “What promise?”

His eyes touch on mine, roaming my face, my lips, my throat, my cleavage, back up to my eyes. “I will not touch you in a sexual way unless you directly ask me to.”

I laugh. “That’llneverhappen.”