“He told you that?” The asshole probably thought he would gain her sympathy by tattling on our conversation.
“Were you jealous then?”
“Elana.” She’s playing a dangerous game.
“You were. You didn’t like the idea of men touching me, kissing me.” She takes a step back. “Fucking me.”
“All you’re going to do is get yourself in trouble here, Elana. Be careful.”
A flicker of amusement crosses her eyes. She’s enjoying this, getting me angry at these memories. She wants me to hate her for them.
“Trouble? It’s what I do best.” She laughs, spinning around like she’s dismissed me.
I let her stalk off into the bedroom. When the door slams, I take my time cleaning up the breakfast dishes. Let her stew. She thinks she’s won something, reminding me how out of reach she’s been.
She’s not now.
Right now, she’s in my cabin, in the woods, far away from her brothers, from Janis, and the Irish. The only monster she needs to worry about right now is me.
But she doesn’t fully understand that yet.
When I approach the bedroom, I hear moans. Her moans.
I grab the doorknob to find it locked. She’s locked me out of my own bedroom in my own cabin.
The fucking brat.
Another moan.
There’s a key somewhere for the door, but I’m not wasting time. Throwing my shoulder into the door, I burst into the bedroom.
She’s sprawled out on the bed, her clothes scattered across the floor and her legs bent at the knee, spread open. Two fingers stuffed into her cunt. Her other hand pinches her nipple.
It takes a second for her to register my presence.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
She freezes. Did she honestly think I wasn’t going to come back here? Did she genuinely believe she’d have privacy simply because she locked the fucking door handle?
“What are you thinking, Elana? Did you come in here thinking you’d won? That you got your way? Made me remember that little shit had his hands on you. That other men have had their hands on you, and it turned you on?”
She snaps her knees closed, sliding her hand out from between them.
“What got your pussy wet, thinking about them?”
Her throat works, and she gives a little nod. I’m starting to think she didn’t think this through.
I suppose she has no reason to believe I wouldn’t barge in here on her. Whenever she’s given a little resistance, she’s gotten her way. Her brothers were always afraid she’d pull away from them if they pushed too hard when she was old enough to live on her own. Her father never gave a shit about her, and her mother had died when Elana needed the nurturing hand of a mother. No one was left to lay down the law.
“Artem.” She reaches for the blankets she’d thrown back when she woke up, but I grab them, yanking them to the bottom of the bed, out of her reach.
“Tell me. Was it their hands on your tits just now?”
“No.” Her eyes dart for the door.
“Try it, Babygirl, and you’ll wish I pulled off my belt. Answer me. Were you fantasizing about Jimmy Peters? About Tony fucking DeAngelo?”
My fingers curl into my palms just saying their fucking names.