terrible truth; without a will, she wasn’t a person. She was an object. The thought shredded her heart and soul with sharp blades, but she couldn’t do one thing to tell Hayworth to stop. She was frozen.
He leaned in, brushed his lips with hers. She trembled, and oh God, that made her lips move, as if she was responding. He cupped her face. “So pretty and sweet,” he murmured and slid an arm all the way around her, his hand settling over her hip, spreading out over her buttock. She was dying inside, and she could do nothing in her defense. She would die inside this motionless prison of her body that he thought was okay with this. He wasn’t being rough or forceful. He thought she was…compliant.
Or complicit. A far worse word. She wanted to black it out of her notebook.
“Best thing about high school reunions,” he said, offering a chuckle against her mouth. “It’s like time freezes and you get a hall pass to do some impulsive things. Why don’t we take this further? I wouldn’t mind putting you up on the counter and tasting what’s between your legs. I’m good at eating pussy, and see, I got this…” He kept one hand on her while he fished a vial out of his pocket. “I’ll sprinkle it on you, and you won’t believe how good it feels. Know there’s not a lot of recreational drugs of this caliber in this county.”
That was why his intensity seemed familiar. Her uncle liked to take things that made his eyes like that sometimes. He was less careful with her then, and her father had usually intervened to ensure she didn’t need to go to a doctor afterward.
“After you’re nice and slippery, maybe you’ll be nice to me. Offer some reciprocity.” He chuckled as he got the word out, with effort. “See—if you can say a word like that, you’re not really impaired. I’ve told cops that when they stop me, but they don’t get it. No sense of humor, I guess. You’ve got a lovely mouth. You’re so quiet, darling. But your eyes do a lot of talking. So soft and willing…”
He was gathering up her skirt in the one hand, working his way beneath it while he went back to kissing her mouth. His body was against hers, and she could feel his erection against her stomach. A strangled moan came from her lips and he growled in answer.
“What in God’s name?”
Daralyn jerked at the sound of Elaine’s voice, and Hayworth turned. Then all hell broke loose.
Because Rory was right beside his mother.
She’d seen Rory’s temper unleashed, though never directed at her, unless she counted the day she’d been on the tractor, and that had been different.
This was rage, so hot it swept toward them like hellfire.
His mother called out, but Rory was already headed for Hayworth. Then Daralyn realized Elaine hadn’t called out to Rory. She’d known the futility of that. She’d entreated other help.
Thomas came in, Marcus on his heels, just as Rory reached Hayworth. However, in instinctive self-preservation, Hayworth had grabbed Daralyn by the shoulders, put her in front of him. She was a puppet, unable to move on her own, detached from anything. Like a news program Elaine had watched, where people had been rioting in a park. Daralyn didn’t like the violence, and so had fixated on a statue of the city founder, part of the park’s offerings. A monument seemingly indifferent to what was happening around it. Now she wondered if the statue simply couldn’t move, could only watch the violence ensue, its feelings irrelevant because it couldn’t do anything.
Rory was looking at her, and she couldn’t survive the rage in his face. She dropped her gaze to the floor, to his shoes. Hayworth’s hands flexed on her, making her sway. She’d locked her knees, and was starting to feel lightheaded.
“She was okay with it,” Hayworth said hastily. “She didn’t say no.”
“Look at her,” Rory snapped. “Or are you too fucked up in your head to see her?”
She flinched at every word.
“What’s happening in here?”
The authoritative voice pulled everyone’s attention away except Rory’s. And hers. His gaze was burning her flesh.
The sheriff and two of his deputies had attended tonight as guests, not law enforcement. At least not until this moment. Loud voices were making accusations, talking over one another. Thomas and Marcus had circled around, latched onto Hayworth and moved him off to a corner, leaving her standing like a rootless tree, about