“Shut. Up.” I give a harsh tug with each word and finally pull the strap tight enough to snap the clip, “The only reason I’m doing this is so you don’t get me fired.” It’s a lie, and he knows it.
Colson’s expression changes to one of genuine concern, “I would never get you fired,” and the look in his eyes tells me he means it. Then he hesitates and the way he looks at me says something totally different, “but I’ll gladly rearrange the rest of your life.”
My breath catches and my tone turns to desperation, “Why are you doing this?”
“To punish you,” he deadpans, “this time, for breaking your promises.”
After a stunned pause, my face twists into an indignant scowl, “What—”
A sudden pop cuts through the office. I wince in pain, my eyes popping as a stinging sensation radiates across my left ass cheek. Now Colson seems to tower over me, his expression turned almost resentful.
“Shh,” Colson taps his fingertip against my bottom lip, his face like stone.
My eyes round and I stare up at him in shock.
His tone is quiet and measured, “I know you remember every single moment of that night. You remember what you told me?”
My stomach drops as the words echo through my head, words I’ve tried to forget over and over again, but I never can. The truth is in the eyes, and Colson sees it in mine.
“Yeah, you do,” he drawls with a cruel smile, “because Brett Ashley Sorensen never forgets anything. What was it?”
I look away as a sinking feeling creeps into my stomach. I can’t describe it with any other word except…shame? But why should I feel ashamed? I haven’t done anything wrong—at least to Colson. I should feel a lot of shame for what’s just happened.
What have I done?
After a minute of excruciating silence, I hang my head and wish I could crawl under my desk and disappear. But Colson’s not going to let me off that easy. He reaches up and rakes his fingers up my scalp. When he clenches his fist, my eyes fly open with a gasp and my cheeks feel hot.
He leans closer, “What. Was. It.”
I bite the bottom lip. I can still keep fighting him, but to what end? I know what I did, and I know what I said.
“You’re—” I cringe and my voice cracks until it’s only a whisper, “you’re my only.”
Colson slowly nods and releases my hair as I struggle through each word, “I kept my promise to you. I came back to you, but you—”
My jaw drops and outrage flashes across my face, “No, you—” I cut him off, but before I can continue, I hear another smack and feel another sting across my ass that renders me silent.
“Shh,” Colson hisses.
I press my mouth together with a long, seething blink. I comply, but avert my eyes when he speaks.
“But you,” he cocks his head and scrutinizes my face, “you’ve been a bad, bad girl, Honeybee.”
My heart is still pounding, but I finally find the nerve to look up into his eyes again. He’s still, but the muscles around his eyes twitch like he’s searching my face, waiting for me to give something away.
“Is that why you’re following me again?” I finally croak, asking what I’ve been wanting to for so long, “Is that why you broke into my house?”
“Well,” Colson smiles like he half expected my accusation, “I can’t blame any man who is,” he grins, “you probably have a few admirers, don’t you?”
“A stalker, you mean?”
“Addict might be more appropriate,” he shrugs, “or paramour…” I feel something on my hand, and when I look down, he’s spinning my sapphire engagement ring around my finger with his thumb, “I also can’t blame this one for trying to lock you down.”
“Yeah, well,” I rip my fingers out of his hand, readjusting my ring, “this happened before I—” I bite back the rest of the words before they can leave my throat, but I’m too late.
Colson tips his chin, peering down at me with a smirk, “Before you what?”
“Nothing,” I mutter, but he knows. He knows what stupid, idiotic, thoughtless words almost spilled out onto the dull grey carpet between us.
“Before you knew I still wanted you?” he guesses.
“You’re such a liar, Colson,” I growl, “as if you haven’t slept with another girl in three years.”
If he hasn’t, then there really is something wrong with him…
“Jealous girl,” he gives me a once-over, “not since I came back to you. So, one might say you’re the liar,” I swear, he looks like the devil right now as he leans into my ear, “sleeping in another man’s bed.”
I suck a breath through my teeth. I don’t like his tone. I don’t like his arrogance and self-importance implying I’ve wronged him somehow. Everything that happened—that is happening—is his fucking fault. All he does is make me doubt myself, and I hate it.
“I’m not usually a forgiving person,” Colson continues, adjusting his belt on his hips, “but we do a lot of things for the ones we love, don’t we?”
“Are you done?” I scowl, dead set on ignoring anything else that comes out of his mouth.
“You tell me.” His voice returns to its normal, even tone, “You’re the one who can’t decide on lunch without having an existential crisis.”
“Anything else?”
He hesitates with a smile that looks anything but sweet, “I have been curious about something. Do you still think about how my belt feels around your neck?” I shouldn’t have asked… “Or how my knife feels on your skin?” he leans closer, murmuring into my ear, “Because I can’t stop thinking about the panic and the pain in your eyes, or how good your blood tastes on my tongue.”
