Page 105 of A Dark Fall
“Do you remember what I said about how you look when you’re angry?” he asks quietly. My mouth almost falls open as something warm and traitorous moves through me. “Now, baby, I promise you, if you don’t get in that fucking car right now, I’ll put you in it.” His voice is low and filled with promise. It sounds a lot like it does when he tells me what he wants to do to me in bed. I wonder if he said those same things to Vicky, and my fingers curl into fists.
“You wouldn’t dare.”
He cocks his head a little, still smiling. “Wanna bet?”
A few people are staring at us now. Maybe because it’s Saturday night in the middle of Camden and a couple having a domestic always draws attention.
“You all right there, love?” a male voice says from behind me.
I hold Jake’s gaze for a moment before turning around. Two guys look from me to Jake warily. I wonder what they see. They’re both young and fit-looking and dressed smart for a night out.
“Do yourself a favor and fuck off, mate, yeah?” Jake says. It comes out as the verbal equivalent of swatting a fly.
An uneasy look crosses both of their faces as they look at me. Jake has a dangerous edge to him generally, but now his dial is cranked up full he looks ferocious. I don’t blame them for regretting getting involved.
“I’m fine, thank you.” I offer them a half-hearted smile. They look relieved, I think, and then they’re backing off, crossing the road to put some distance between us.
I whip my head around to glare at Jake again as he grabs a hold of me. “Stop bloody manhandling me. You’re embarrassing me,” I hiss.
“Are you going to get in the car?”
“Do I have a choice?” Short of screaming bloody murder in the middle of the street and embarrassing myself further, I don’t see what option I have.
He looks at me a little sadly. “Please, baby, for me,” he says, and I feel myself soften. I’m such a bloody idiot.
“Fine,” I hiss.
When he lets go of my arm, I rub it as though he’s hurt me, glaring at him hard as I walk to the passenger side of the car. He doesn’t move until I’ve slammed the door closed. Then he gets in and closes the door, turning to stare at me, the weight of his eyes suffocating. I stare out the passenger window instead.
“Alex, please, look at me,” he says.
I close my eyes for a long moment and take a deep breath before turning to face him. His body—which outside was coiled and hard like steel—seems to relax, though his face still looks tormented and anxious. I’m able to look at him for maybe ten seconds before I have to look away again. It hurts too much. Being this close to him tightens my nerves and stretches my willpower. I feel his heat from here, smell his smell too, and I hate myself for still wanting it on me. When, from the corner of my eye, I see his hand move up toward my face, I pull my head back, away from it.
“Don’t you dare,” I warn.
His hand freezes mid-air before he lowers it slowly and turns around to face the front. Then he sighs deeply and pulls on his seat belt.
“Can you put yours on too, please?” he asks as his clicks into place.
Everything inside me wants to defy him even in this. Huffily, I reach across and pull the strap over my chest to secure it in its socket.
Though my wine haze is fading fast, I still feel slightly disoriented as he starts to drive through the tight, busy streets of Camden. I’m not entirely sure which direction we’re going in or where he plans to take me to “talk,” but then I see the River Thames ahead. He takes a left turn so the river is on my right and carries on along the riverfront. I know exactly where he’s taking me. I feel ill.
“Don’t even think about taking me back to your place, Jake,” I tell him.
When he doesn’t respond, I turn to glare at him. His expression is resolute and determined.
“I need to take you there, Alex,” he says eventually. “To explain properly.”
“This should be good.” I laugh emptily. I’m intrigued though. Except there is no intrigue. Last night, he begged me to end things and then drove away from me to be with her. Nothing intriguing about that.
God, I want to scratch her eyes out and then turn my fury and rage on him. But I also want him to soothe me and kiss me and tell me she meant nothing. Tell me it’s only me he wants. I’m pathetic. My mind decides I haven’t suffered enough, and so it forces me to imagine him naked and moaning her name as he thrusts into her on the same bed he fucked me on three nights ago.
God, I need some air.
I reach over and hold the button on the door down to lower my window, breathing the cool night air in deep as I try to calm the noise in my head. I glance back at his profile. His face is almost totally in darkness, only the glow of the streetlights to illuminate it. It hits me then—a strange, empty realization, really—that it’s him personified, the light teasing me with glimpses of him, only to snatch him away, back into the dark. One moment, I think I can see all of him; then, it’s as if he’s a complete mystery. But I’ve never seen him fully, have I? I’ve only ever seen what he’s chosen to show me.
When we pull into his garage a short time later, he switches the engine off, takes a deep breath, and then turns to face me. He looks uncertain and anxious, but there’s fear and lust there too, and it’s too much for one person to look directly at. So, I look away.