Tears of Tess by Pepper Winters Page B

sigh, he shoved me into a wingback and sat opposite.
    I
winced, but held my tongue. I didn’t want him knowing I hurt, even if he could
grant me painkillers. Not that he would. He was a cold-hearted bastard who
wanted broken and weak.
    Leaning
forward, he clasped his hands between his open legs, so close, dominating the
space. Eyes searched my face again, almost imploring to know my secrets.
    Discomfort
made me wriggle, and I refused to make eye contact, preferring to stare at the
licking fire.
    We
didn’t move and I wasn’t about to break the heavy silence. I wanted to go home.
    Taking
a breath, he said, “You are mine. Through circumstances I will not discuss with
you, you have come into my possession, and therefore must obey me in all
things.”
    Like
hell .
    “You
are not permitted to use the internet, phone, or any technology of any kind.
You may not speak to the staff. You may not leave the house.”
    He
stood, toned muscles glided to the large wooden desk. Pulling a piece of paper free
and a small black pouch, he settled back down. “My business partners didn’t say
where they got you from, what languages you speak, what skills you have. You
are no one—a fresh start. We will get along if you remember that.” He leaned
forward again, encroaching on my space. “You are no one’s but mine. Do you
understand?” Eyes flashed with excitement as he spoke, as if he loved the idea.
Of course, he loved the idea. How many other women did he ruin?
    Options
ran through my head. I could spit in his face. Try and knee him in the balls.
Run and scream. All of those choices ended with consequences and pain.
    I
stayed mute and still.
    The
man dropped to his knees, pushing the chair behind in one swoop. My heart raced
as he inched forward, his breath hot on my bare thighs. So soon? I hadn’t been there
for ten minutes and he planned to rape me already? Shit, I couldn’t do this.
I’d only ever been with Brax. Brax was my first. The one who stole my innocence
and my heart.
    Breathe.
Pretend you’re somewhere else.
    I
gripped the arm rests as he tugged my leg onto his thigh and rolled down my
socks. His fingers scorched flesh all the way down, turning my bruises and
sprained ankle into pinpoints of heat. My face scrunched and I gasped as the
sock slid off my foot, leaving me bare.
    He
frowned, glaring at my ankle. Swollen and hot, it looked worse than it felt,
but he stared as if my bone stuck out. “Did they do this to you?” His voice was
soft, heartfelt as his gaze travelled back up my leg, spotting the bruises, the
abrasions, remnants of my captivity and Leather Jacket’s hospitality. 
    My
pulse came faster at his concern, then anger followed hot and true. “What do
you care? You’ll probably do worse.”
    His
eyes snapped to mine and fingers twitched on my calf. “I care, because I don’t
like damaged girls. And I won’t do worse.” He lowered his voice, fingers
tightening. “Unless you deserve it.” His face blazed with protectiveness,
followed by heart stopping need. He seemed to battle his interest, whatever
sick attraction he had for me.
    My
heart raced, blood churned. I swallowed hard and waited for wandering hands,
horrible fingers, but nothing happened.
    The
man leaned back, removing his touch. In quick, assertive moves, he pulled a long
item from the black pouch and pressed a button at the back. A bright red light
flared before muting to nothing.
    Shuffling
closer until an expensively clad shoulder brushed my knee, he unrolled my other
sock and wrapped the item around my uninjured ankle. The cold bite of plastic
made me flinch, but it didn’t stop him from tightening it. The snap of the
twist tie set my heart beating, undoable but for a blade or scissors.
    He
stood and sat on the edge of the wingback once finished.
    I
spoke before I thought. “What is that?”
    Sitting
back, he wiped hands on his trouser legs. “It’s a tracking device.” Motioning
to my bare legs, he added, “If you’re