Page 57 of Coerced Kiss

“To talk.”

“About what?” I ask, a nasty suspicion growing in the pit of my stomach.

“She warned me not to break your heart.”

I just about die of mortification. “She did not.”

He doesn’t reply.

“What did she tell you?” I ask, holding my breath.

“About your mother. That you don’t pay rent for the apartment.”

Embarrassment burns a path up my neck. “She had no right to share those details with you. That’s private.”

“Don’t blame her.” He grins. “I’m your boyfriend, remember? Even if I have to say so myself, she approves of your choice.”

I gape at him, chagrin and anger making a potent cocktail of emotions in my chest. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Don’t hold it against her. She’s a nice old lady who’s looking out for you. I would’ve found out eventually.”

I don’t have to ask how.

“The only question that remains is whyhim?” he asks. “Why did you go to Justice Kearney for the money?” When I only lock my jaw, comprehension washes over his features. The set of his mouth turns hard. Contempt rides on his words when he makes his own deduction. “He’s the father of your baby.”

I don’t acknowledge that truth either. It speaks for itself.

In a flash, he goes from broody to downright murderous. “What happened in his office? Did he touch you?”

I stare at his thunderous expression with confusion. “What does that have to do with anything?”

He bites off every word. “Did he fucking touch you?”

“No,” I cry out. “It’s not like that between us, not that it’s any of your damn business.”

Gripping my face in his hand, he splays his fingers over my cheek. “You will never go to that asshole for money or for anything else again. If I catch him near you, I’ll break his fucking hands. I’ll flatten each of his fingers and turn his bones into pulp. If he as much as brushes against you, I’ll peel every inch of his skin off his body.”

My jaw drops at the gruesome threats. The worst is that he means it. There’s no bluffing in his serious, determined gaze.

“If you need anything—whether it’s one dollar or a thousand, food or rent, or just a warm cup of fucking tea—you will ask no one but me.”

More confused than ever, I ask, “Why?”

An unfriendly smile curves his lips. “Do you need to ask?”

“I don’t understand,” I whisper.

“Your life belongs to me.” He emphasizes the point by tightening his hold, his fingers digging into my cheeks. “Is that clear?”

Too frightened to do anything else, I can only nod again.

“Good girl,” he praises, easing his grip and brushing his thumb over my bottom lip. He leans closer, encroaching on my private space and forcing me to crane my neck to look up at him. “Now that we understand each other on that point, we can move to my next question.” His voice drops, his words dangerously soft. “Did youwanthim to touch you?”

This line of questioning is crossing a line. “I don’t understand where you’re going with this.”

“It’s simple.” His statement is toneless yet loaded at the same time. “If the answer is yes, I’ll kill him.”

My breath catches. I don’t doubt for a minute that he would. “I didn’t. I don’t.”