Page 29 of Commit
I yank the T-shirt down, covering my bra, and feel my skin burn with embarrassment. He stalks closer, forcing me to back up until my back is pressed against the mirror. His eyes move over my body, stripping me naked and leaving a blazing trail across my skin.
“Get what you want, not just what you need.” His voice has deepened, taking on a gravelly sound that has my nipples pebbling.
I bite my lip, hoping like fuck he doesn’t notice, but God never did like me. His eyes drop to my shirt, my breath stalling in my chest. I open my mouth to tell him I didn’t choose it when he looks into my eyes. His are dark and ominous, staring into mine.
“Get the shirt.”
“It’s not my style. I?—”
One of his hands moves to my hip, the other slides up my body, his thumb grazing over my nipple as he leans in, and his mouth skims the shell of my ear.
“Get the fucking shirt,” he growls before he pushes himself away. He storms out, slamming the door behind him, making me jolt.
My heart thunders like a herd of wild horses, and my legs are shaking so hard that I drop down onto the bench and take a deep breath.
I spend the next ten minutes trying to calm myself down as I strip out of the clothes and redress in my own. I don’t bother to check through the items. I toss a bunch in a pile and throw the rest over one arm. I hide the cherry T-shirt under a blue dress draped over my arm and hurry out of the dressing room, ignoring Hudson when he ends his phone call and walks over to me.
“That was quick.”
I nod and head to the counter, trying to keep some distance between us. Of course, Hudson doesn’t know how to take a hint. He moves closer and presses his hand to the small of my back.
I move up to the counter when Laura finishes ringing up the customer in front of me and offers me another smile. “Did you find some things you liked?”
“Yes, thank you. I’ll take these, please.” I slide the small pile onto the counter. “Where would you like me to put the rest?”
“They didn’t fit? I can bring them out in other sizes,” she offers.
“No, they fit just fine, thank you. I just don’t need that much.” And truthfully, I probably wouldn’t wear half of them.
Hudson takes the haul from my arms, the blue dress slipping a little to reveal the cherry T-shirt beneath it. He looks at me, a small smile playing on his lips as if my defiance amuses him.
He places the pile on the counter before pulling out his black card and handing it over. “We’ll take it all.”
I narrow my eyes, ready to tell him to fuck off, when his finger presses against my lips, silencing me.
“I’d think very carefully about what you say. We still need to get shoes and underwear,” he leans closer, lowering his voice so only I can hear him. “Push me, Birdie, and I’ll push back. I’ll make you try on every scrap of lace in the store and watch you do it until all of Victoria’s secrets are revealed.”
I’m shocked into silence, knowing none of this is okay. I might not have had the most typical upbringing, but I know there’s nothing fatherly about how he’s treating me. He’s looking at me like I’m his favorite snack, and the fact that I’m fucking his son doesn’t seem to be any kind of deterrent.
“Thanks, Laura.” Hudson takes the bags offered to him and gestures for me to go ahead of him. I do, confused and unsure of what to do next. If this were a movie, I’d be yelling at the heroine to get the fuck out now before she wakes up choking on more than a red flag.
But where would I go? I have nobody left but Abbot. I can’t leave him. As much as I’m afraid of staying, I’m scared of leaving too. I don’t have an easy out where I can tell Hudson off, then skip away to some magical land where everything works out perfectly. If I leave now, the only place I’ll end up is on the corner of Eagleton.
I blink back frustrated tears as we walk back to the truck. Hudson opens the tailgate and puts the bags in the back. Closing it, he turns to look at me.
“You want to eat before we hit the next store?”
His voice is back to normal. Nothing in his expression gives him away, making me wonder if I’m imagining things. Am I so distrustful of men that I’m blowing things out of proportion, or is he playing some kind of game that’s messing with my head?
“I don’t feel good. Can we go home?” I ask him quietly, my hands pressed to my stomach, which suddenly feels queasy.
His face morphs from blank to concerned in seconds. “What’s wrong? Did you eat something bad?”
I shake my head and throw out the only thing I can think of that might get him to back off. “I get bad cramps.”
“Ah, gotcha. Alright, let’s get you home so you can relax. Do you need anything while we’re out, tampons or pads or something?”
My mouth drops open in surprise. I don’t get periods very often. I have an IUD, which has all but stopped them. On the rare occasion I do get them, Abbot pretty much leaves me alone to deal with it.