Amour Toxique: Books 1-3 Boxed Set (Books 1-3 Series Boxed Set) by Dori Lavelle

Author:Dori Lavelle [Lavelle, Dori]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Dori Lavelle
Published: 2018-05-15T16:00:00+00:00

42

When the impact of what I’ve done hits me full force, I extricate myself from Damien’s hold and run to the bathroom. I wish for the hundredth time that he weren’t able to see me through the glass.

My body itches for a shower, to be scrubbed of the scent of him. Sobs grip me before I can turn on the water.

I crumple against one marble wall and slide to the cool floor. Tears leak from the corners of my eyes, trickling down my cheeks and neck.

After he fucked me, I felt strangely whole. Now all I feel is a deep, empty abyss in the center of my heart.

For a long time, Damien keeps his distance, though his eyes are on me. When he finally enters the bathroom, I’ve wept for a long time and I’m lying on the dry shower floor, my damp cheek pressed against the tiles. His muted footsteps move across the room toward me. I sit up and wipe the tears away. I don’t look at him.

“I thought you wanted this.” He inhales sharply. “You specifically made it clear that you wanted me to fuck you.”

I swallow the rest of the tears lingering in my throat as sudden confidence fills my body. I lift my chin and meet his hardened gaze. “Answer me one thing.”

He folds his arms across his hard chest. I try not to look below his naked waist. “Anything.”

“Why me? Why did you pick me? What made you decide I was the one you wanted to torture? Did moving into that dorm room put me in the wrong place at the wrong time?” My tongue rolls over my dry lips and I taste the salt of my tears. “If not me, would it have been Jennifer? Or someone else?”

“No.” He slides his gaze from me and takes a few steps back until his calves meet the edge of the bathtub. “Let’s not taint our new life with the past. You are right for me. Leave it at that.”

“Do you really expect me to feel fortunate?” I wrap my arms around my body. I’m too angry to stop bombarding him with questions. “Am I supposed to feel lucky that I’m the one who had the privilege to be kidnapped by you?”

“No.” The word is as hard as marble. “Again, you have it all wrong. Kidnapping is the wrong word.” He perches on the lip of the bath. “I brought you into my life because I love you. You belong to me.”

“You’ve got such a messed-up definition of love. This is not love. Whatever you feel for me is a sickness, an obsession. You have to be broken somewhere to believe it’s anything else.”

He shoots up from the tub. The next thing I know, he’s holding me up by the nape of my neck, yanking me out of the shower cubicle. He pulls my face to his. “Don’t you ever say that again. Don’t disrespect my love for you. Ever.”

“Or what?” I stand on tiptoes so I’m as close to his face as possible, ignoring the pain in my neck.

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