Damaged: The Dillon Sisters by Layla Frost

Author:Layla Frost [Frost, Layla]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: LAYLA FROST
Published: 2021-04-26T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty

Vulnerable

Briar

For answers

THIS WAS AN awful idea.

I’d known Alexander was loaded. I’d come to terms with it… for the most part. He wasn’t like my father or any of his friends. And his acceptance of my scars and flaws showed that he wasn’t expecting me to be a trophy wife like my mother.

Logically, I knew that. But seeing his gorgeous secluded house surrounded by trees and nature and loveliness made my doubts come roaring back.

It wasn’t ostentatious or gaudy—though it still made my apartment look like a shoebox. Not even an adult-sized one. It was the tiny box for infant shoes.

His house was massive, yet still had character. Souped-up with tech and gadgets, yet not cold. It was comfortable and lived in and so beautiful.

Peaceful.

To make matters worse, something had changed in Alexander since we’d left the shelter. He’d grown quiet and his vibe was tense.

I’d spent enough time on guard against mercurial mood swings to recognize one from a million miles away—which is exactly how far away he seemed to be as we walked silently through his house.

Reaching the kitchen, I let out a muffled yelp when he grabbed my hips and lifted. He set me on the kitchen island before opening the fridge and handing me a root beer—my drink of choice during our last failed date.

Was that disaster only a week ago?

And now this one isn’t going much better.

Alexander began pulling ingredients from the fridge. It didn’t take me long before I realized what he was going to make.

Mexican.

I wanted to tell him he didn’t need to fuss. We could’ve picked up Taco Bell or ordered pizza and it would’ve been a treat. Actually, just being with him was.

Or it would be if he wasn’t tenser than me—which was saying something.

My fight-or-flight instincts were revving up. Except in my case, they were just flight-or-flight instincts.

Before I could make an excuse to leave, Alexander looked at me. “Do I embarrass you?”

It was such an absurd idea, I couldn’t hold in a burst of laughter.

His eyes narrowed. “I’m serious.”

“That makes it funnier. Why would you even think that?”

“You wouldn’t show me the rest of the shelter.”

“I said I’d show you next time.” I’d even meant it as a compromise, rather than my usual insincere evasiveness.

He grabbed a knife from a magnetic strip on his wall. The sight of him holding the sharp steel sent a depraved shiver through my body, creating a surge of arousal. Oblivious to the effect he had on me, he began chopping an onion. “You were strung so tight at the shelter, it’s a wonder you didn’t splinter apart when I touched you. You couldn’t wait to get me the hell out of there.”

And that was what did it.

Not when I let him cut me.

Not when I let him fuck me.

Not when I let him finger fuck me on my kitchen table.

That moment, beyond all the other insane and abnormal ones we’d shared, was when I made a decision.

I was in.

Because that show of doubt and vulnerability called to me almost as much as his darkness.

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