Survival ( Book 2: Stronger Series )

5. Mine

Darren ate his dinner quietly while he continued to read his newspaper, finishing his plate much quicker than I did. With him slightly distracted, I took this time to study him. Occasionally stealing glances here and there or simply keeping him in my peripherals, I scrutinized his mannerisms, his build, posture, and the way his eyes squinted when he focused on something. I noticed the size of his hands and the texture of his skin, smooth, yet calloused in certain areas. And then I spotted something on his right middle finger that I hadn't noticed before. He was wearing a wide silver ring with what looked like some kind of triangular symbol on it. How had I never noticed it before?

Darren then looked over, noticing my half eaten plate as I continued to push the remaining food around with my giant ass fork. He sighed heavily as he stared me down. I gave him a soft pleading look. I really couldn't finish it, and if he continued to silently berate me, I would seriously end up throwing it all up and then it would be an even bigger waste.

"I'll settle for two more bites," he said, nodding at me.

Hmm ... so the man did know how to compromise, after all.

I sighed through my nose as I looked back down at my plate. I quickly scooped up two more tiny bites and chewed quickly. The look on his face was not one of satisfaction.

"You didn't say how big the bites had to be," I said, covering my mouth and swallowing.

He rolled his eyes, sighed, and stood.

"Come on. I want to show you something," he said, holding out his hand.

I eyed his hand as if it was a droopy, drooling dog about to slobber all over me. The thought of touching him like that made me want to vomit up the dinner I had worked so hard to keep down.

"Give me your hand, Jaden," he demanded, more warning blaring from his tone as he glared at me.

Reluctantly, and hating everything within a single square inch of me, I placed my hand in his, and it engulfed mine entirely. Pulling me from my chair, I let him lead me through what appeared to be a living room and out to a patio at the back of the house.

Still trapping my hand in his, I kept up with him easily as we walked through the grass, even though his stride was twice the length of mine. He seemed to notice as my short legs pumped faster to accommodate his speed but with zero strain.

"You always walk this fast?" he asked with a light chuckle.

"After four years, I'm used to it." I shrugged.

He stopped then and stared down at me, his brows furrowed with caution. "Well, now I'm just curious."

I shrugged again not knowing what he expected me to say.

"My boyfriend is six-foot-three. I grew accustomed to his pace."

I stared up at him, studying his reaction. It was probably stupid for me to test him like that, but for some irrational reason, I wanted to piss him off. I started to regret it when his face suddenly went frigid cold, and it began to scare me a little.

"That little confession," he said coldly, tightening his grip on my hand until a sharp pain coursed through my bones, "was a very big mistake."

Before I had a chance to react, he'd thrust me up against the rough brick of the house and forced his lips down on mine so ferociously I could feel them swelling under his onslaught. 

Driving his tongue into my mouth, it explored and conquered every corner, and I fought hard against him.

Tired of my struggle, he took my wrists in his hand and pinned them above my head while his other hand trailed under my dress. I fought even harder as his lips claimed mine in the most aggressive kiss I had ever experienced, but with my hands trapped above my head and his body covering mine, my legs had nowhere else to go.