Page 91 of Fixation

My body is betraying me. It’s telling me all the things I want and shouldn’t.

“Yes, you are.” In efficient movements, he releases me from the restraints.

The IV tube is out, and he twists the cap onto the cannula. I’m bleeding a little, and the area around it is a tad swollen.

He doesn’t he patch me up again.

I watch his every move, still hot for him. Hot and curious.

“Why are you carrying me?” I ask as he scoops me up. We’re headed to the back of the room. “I can walk. I have walked.”

“I won’t be able to touch you after today.” His eyes are aimed straight ahead until we get to the bathroom.

“Why? What happens after today?” God, he’s unnerving. I press my hands to his shoulders, digging my fingers in. “Anderson, you can’t keep talking to me in half sentences. Are you going to kill me?”

His attention settles on my lips. My nose. My cheeks. Eventually, it meets my gaze. “No.”

I shiver. “Then?”

“You don’t hate me anymore.” He places me on the floor, guiding me to the sink, where my toothbrush waits for me.

Both of his hands are on my hips, a firm, familiar touch that I’m leaning into despite myself.

“No matter how hard you try, you don’t act like a prisoner.” We stare at each other in the mirror. He thrusts his hips into me, unable to help himself. “Anyone can see you’re here of your own free will. You moaned in your bed. You let me use your mouth. And if I hadn’t stopped, you’d have let me come down your pretty throat.”

He’s so right that it hurts.

I can’t look at him when I’m like this.

With trembling hands, I turn the water on and wash my face.

Anderson is quiet as he brushes my hair behind my shoulders.

I still can’t bring myself to look at him.

My head is bowed as I reach for my toothbrush. I squeeze the minty toothpaste on it. Brush. Spit. Rinse. Spit again.

“You think I’m weak.” A change of subject. If I continue to talk about how fucked in the head I am, I think I’ll lose it for real. “That I can’t walk. And that I stink.”

“No,” he whispers against the crook of my neck. “What I really think is…”

He hasn’t done that before. Hasn’t kissed me there once, yet he finds that soft spot with his mouth as if he’s kissed my neck a thousand times.

My pulse skyrockets.

He has to feel it.

“I think I’ll take you any way you come to me, Harper.” His lips part, teeth teasing my skin. “You could be rolling in filth, andI wouldn’t hesitate to kiss your pouty lips or bend you over and fuck you. I carried you over here because I wanted to hold you. I’m helping you wash your face and brush your teeth because it’ll makeyoufeel better. Does that answer your question?”

“I don’t want you?—”

His hand slams on my mouth, and he lifts my face. “Stop lying.”

I stare straight ahead, his dark gaze clashing with mine in the mirror. His hips push against me, his hard cock making me gasp. Making me wetter than ever.

“This shower I’m going to help you with, it isn’t for me. It’s for you.” His brow furrows. “The first time you get fucked, kitten, you need to be comfortable. A shower—a real shower—is whatyouneed.”

My eyes fly wide open. His are narrowed and deviant.