Make Me - Tessa Bailey Page 0,70
the bathroom. I-I’ll wait until you’re done.”
His reaction made her a seductress for the first time in her life . . . and that power was an immediate addiction. It blew out the twin flames of dread and doubt, replacing them with a roaring blaze of want. Want she could assuage on her own terms. “Come with me,” she murmured, the invitation twining with the steam. “Otherwise, you’ll be waiting a while.” Thrilled by her own boldness, Abby trailed a hand down her belly. “I’m going to be very thorough.”
Russell’s entire body visibly trembled. “You have every right to punish me, but I’m too weak right now to handle this.” His tone reminded her of torn-up concrete. “Five days is a long fucking time without you. I needed to see how you are . . . if you’re still tired. Still working too much. I came here to hear your voice.”
God, she loved this man. Odd that her heart would pick this moment of asserting her independence to remind her. Odd and unacceptable. There it was, though. This bone-deep knowledge that if she could be this furious with him while still aching to hold him close and soothe his sadness . . . it was real, bone-deep love. The kind that would never go away unless she did something about it. Her heart told her to step back and examine the situation from all angles before trying to exorcise Russell’s hold on her, but the newfound stubbornness that had served her so well of late smothered the inclination.
Abby tossed her hair and sailed toward Russell, who backed away with an expression that said he knew resistance was futile. When she slid a hand into the front waistband of his jeans and walked them backwards, toward the bathroom, he came as if in a trance. “We need to talk, Abby.”
They entered the bathroom, both of them immediately enveloped in steam. She used her free hand to close the door, then pushed Russell’s big frame up against it. “Let’s get the fun part out of the way first.” She slipped her hands beneath his T-shirt and scratched his abs with her fingernails before dragging them lower, lower, and unfastening his belt. His erection was prominent beneath her hands, and she reveled in knowing the attraction ran deep, even if it was where their relationship ended. “Five days is a long time.” She inwardly cursed at the quaver in her voice. “How are you going to make up for it?”
“Any way you want. As soon as you let me explain everything.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
She went up on her toes and got in his face. “No—”
Russell seized her wrists and pulled them behind her back, wrenching a gasp free from her mouth. The fight went out of her instantly. She sagged against him, as if her bones had liquefied, her body held up between his grip and muscular body. It shocked even her how swiftly every nuance of her being responded to the show of authority. Blood whizzed through her veins, rejoicing, anticipating an outlet for pent-up energy and tension she hadn’t been aware of holding hostage.
Russell’s breath was labored, gaze unfocused. “I’m trying to control this thing, angel. You have to help me.” Tortured eyes fell to her parted mouth. “Show me where I hurt you, so I’ll stop.”
Her fingers twitched behind her back with the need to indicate the center of her chest. “What do you mean?”
“The bruises.” He released Abby’s hands, stacking his own atop his head, falling back against the door. “Show me how bad I am for you, as if I didn’t already know. As if I don’t think about it every hour of the day.”
“Bruises,” she whispered, a dull pain forming in her side. “How . . . who told you—” Her mouth snapped shut at the memory of Mitchell’s shrewd, seemingly innocuous glance at her wrists the morning after they’d spent the night at the beach.
“The lawyer said you were upset. He asked me if I bruise up girls. I’ve been sick for days, Abby. So fucking sick.”
Her knees almost buckled under the weight of relief. It all made sense now. Why he’d left without saying good-bye. Why he’d stayed away. Her big protector thought he’d hurt her. He’d been put through five days of torture for no reason. They both had.
“Russell.” She smoothed her hands up the sides of his face. “You didn’t hurt me. Or, when you did, it changed into something that felt good.” Steam drifted between