I don’t believe my father capable of hurting anyone. It isn’t the man that I know him to be. To believe anything else would be a betrayal of the worst kind.
I am loyal to my father.
My love for my father is unconditional. Something that has been proven time after time over the years. But I still find myself sympathizing with Javi for whatever wrong was done to him. The only conclusion I can draw is that it must have been a misunderstanding. Because my father would never intentionally hurt Javi. He’d never intentionally hurt anyone.
This much I know to be true.
But I know Javi won’t see it the same way. And I don’t have the energy to travel down that path today. So I change the subject.
"Will you show me your face?"
I can't look at him when I ask.
"No."
His hands curl into fists at his sides, and I sense he is getting ready to leave again. Logic tells me I should be careful. I shouldn't push too much too soon. But I need to feel like we're making progress. At this rate, it could take years before we get anywhere.
"I've already seen you," I point out. "So what harm will come..."
He's out of his chair before I can finish the sentence. Hauling me up into his arms and squeezing my face in his hand.
"You want to see the beast?" he asks. "Is that it?"
"No."
I try to shake my head, but it doesn't move in his iron grip.
"I just want to see you, Javi. Please."
“You want to see me so you can hate me?”
“No.”
My voice sounds less and less sure, and that isn’t helping the situation right now.
Javi spins me around and pins my back against his chest, caging me in with his arms. He’s impossible. I can’t fight him. I can’t fight him, and he knows it.
I wonder again if this is it. If he’s going to choke me to death. I close my eyes and wait.
He drags his nose along my neck, breathing me in. I shiver, and something else invades the space between us.
Something potent.
Something intoxicating.
“I want you,” he grunts.
I turn to cement in his arms, and yet he pulls me closer still. His cock wedged against my ass.
“Let me have you.”
His lips find my throat. Soft. He kisses his way down the column of my neck and over my collarbone. My breathing is disjointed. Too loud. My body’s response to him is not to be trusted.
Do I want this? Do I not? I can’t figure it out anymore.
His hands slip beneath my shirt, squeezing my breasts as he groans into my ear.
“Let me see you,” I plead.