letting me feel his bristling anger that’s so intense it makes him look icy instead.
Icy, irritated and headed for me.
Number one, he hasn’t taken his eyes off me since I woke up.
Two, I don’t have my shoes on anymore and three…I look down to confirm, but it’s right there, right fucking there… my sleeves were rolled up, exposing me from my wrist to my elbows. He can clearly see everything. All of them.
I gasp, horror and embarrassment slamming into me like a cyclone, taking away the morning glow as I stare into his hard, black gaze, the green completely gone. I take a step back, feeling sick to my stomach now.
No… Oh God no!
My heart starts pounding so hard as the truth is right in front of him, laid bare for him to see and it all happened way earlier, before I could even think of how to tell him.
Come on, bitch, were you going to tell him about this? The snarky voice is my head questions as tears sting my eyes.
I can’t remember the last time I felt this kind of mortifying embarrassment before. My heart actually races so hard I think I’m growing faint.
“Sit down, Mia,” Julian repeats, the look on his face stopping my heart. Though he tries to look at me like with sympathy and horror, he’s looking at me like I’m crazy and disgusting for doing this to myself.
He’s not wrong though. It’s just not a look I can face coming from him.
“No,” I mutter, pain clogging my throat now.
“You never do as you’re told, do you?” he growls.
“I’m not a dog,” I fire back, breathless as my heart thunders loudly in my chest.
“Of course you’re not,” he says dryly, taunting me. “A dog knows it’s limits. A dog, Mia, will chase its own tail until it’s tired. Sometimes, it will bite its own tail, but it would never do that shit again because it would have learned its lesson. You, Mia, are not a fucking dog.”
Oh God. What do I do here? I had feared that when he found out about this, he was going to look at me differently, that he was going to think I was just like all the other nutjob girls that lusted after him. I was right. He’s looking at me like that and it’s killing me right now.
“Julian—”
“My brother sat on that bed in your room just last week and told you about Sandra Matthews,” he starts, his voice now void of emotion as if he’s talking to a stranger or a freaking robot. “He sat there and told you that she killed herself, didn’t he?”
No, oh God, no, don’t let me do this.
“Please stop,” I gasp, my heart in my throat.
“Don’t what?” He glares at me.
“Don’t look at me like that!” I cry, waving at his gorgeous face. “Stop looking at me like I’m wired wrong, like I have a few screws loose. Just stop.”
“Christ, Mia,” he says, shoving both hands through his hair. “You can’t be serious. Is that what you’re seeing or are you making up what you want to see on my face?”
Oh my God, is that what I’m doing right now?
“I’m the one looking at you right now! I’m the one who can see the disgust on your face.”
“Disgust? Jesus, Mia, stop,” he bites out. “Just fucking stop.”
But it’s right there. I want to scream, but I bite own on my lower lip, looking at anything but him, feeling my heart break all over again.
“Look at me, Mia,” he demands. “Look at my face and tell me what you see. Stop making shit up that you think I should be feeling in this moment, that’s not you, so look at me.”
Overwhelmed by shame and mortification at myself, I look up at him, my lips quivering as tears blur my vision.
“Good, now tell me,” he prompts, wrapping an arm around my waist, holding my trembling body to his hardness. “What do you see?”
“Don’t make me do this.”
“I will if it means the thoughts in your head disappear. Now, tell me,” he demands. But I shake my head again, refusing to take that step.
It’s fucking cruel to do so. I don’t want to be the one who points out that there’s pity, horror, and a dash of disgust in his eyes when he looks at me.
I’m not just thinking it, it’s right there, replacing all the hot, sexy looks he gave me hours before when he pinned me to the bed and fucked me without