Unattainable (Undeniable, #3)(82)

His eyes met hers. “I killed him,” he said without an ounce of remorse. In fact, he looked angry, like he wanted to kill the man all over again. “He ain’t never gonna be found, baby, and you don’t gotta worry anymore about him comin’ after you.”

“The whole town is going to be looking for him,” she whispered, her body filling with fear. “You’ll go to jail. They will take you away from me and you’ll go to jail and it will be all my fault. Oh my God, this is all—”

Dirty’s mouth slammed into hers with such force that she would have flown backward if he hadn’t been holding her arms.

Ellie’s surprise was short-lived. She wanted this, she wanted this badly, so when his tongue roughly thrust past her lips, she’d already forgotten entirely what she had been talking about.

“Nobody is takin’ me away from you,” he growled against her mouth.

Ellie found herself suddenly spun around and Dirty’s front pressed against her back. His hands gripped the collar of her dress. “And that motherf*cker ain’t never gonna be found,” he finished, then yanked. Buttons flew through the room, pinging off the furniture and walls as her dress split wide open.

Large hands gently cupped her bra-covered breasts and she trembled through her next breath. “I have to have you, baby,” he said, pressing his erection into her backside. “I can’t take it no more, but I gotta do this my way and I need you to do exactly as I say.”

Ellie’s need for Dirty had overridden her fear of what could happen if she and Dirty were ever to become intimate awhile back. She simply didn’t care anymore. She wanted him that badly. More in fact now that she knew what he was capable of. He had just killed a man. Beaten him with his own two hands. For her. All for her.

Never in her entire life had she dreamt she would ever be in the center of such events, or turned on by them, let alone falling in love with a man…like Dirty.

Her dress was pulled from her arms and just as quickly her bra was tossed across the room. Moments later, Ellie was naked, facedown on Dirty’s bed and he was behind her, holding her hips, pressing against her, pressing into her.

She whimpered her frustration. She wanted to touch him, to kiss him again; she wanted to hold tightly to him when he slid inside of her. But she would take it. She understood. She’d seen firsthand his fragility, his fears, and she knew how desperately hard this was for him, so she would do it his way.

Except, suddenly she could no longer feel him behind her. Pushing to her knees, she turned around and found him kneeling by the edge of the bed, tears rolling down his cheeks.

“I can’t do it,” he choked out, his words frantically spoken, his eyes wide while his head shook wildly. “I can’t do it.”

Instinctively wanting to comfort him, Ellie reached for him and found herself immediately shoved backward. Startled, she glanced up at Dirty, who was towering over her and glaring. “Don’t touch me,” he bit out.

Tears burned in her eyes as she nodded. “I’m sorry,” she whispered tearfully.

Dirty’s already wild eyes flashed with an unidentifiable emotion and suddenly his fists were clenched and his nostrils flared with heavy breaths. He appeared to be warring from within and it looked to Ellie like his personal demons were winning.

“It’s okay,” she said, trying her best to mask her shaking voice with a soothing tone. “We don’t have to do anything.”

His eyes flared even wider and Ellie shrunk backward.

“I HAVE TO!” he roared, his face turning red with rage. “I FUCKIN’ HAVE TO!”

The next thing she knew, he grabbed her calves and pulled her legs apart. His hips surged forward and—

Ellie sucked in a startled breath of air as he filled her body. He wasn’t a small man, not at all, and it took more than a moment to adjust to his size.

Dirty stared down at her, looking no better than before, shaking, his eyes burning with both emotion and tears. She powered through her need to comfort him through touch and just lay beneath him, their bodies joined but neither of them touching the other, neither of them moving. Just staring.

“Fight me,” he suddenly whispered.

Ellie’s eyes widened. “What?”

“Fight me,” he repeated, his voice breaking. “Bitch, please.”

Oh God, this had been a bad idea. He wanted her to fight him. She couldn’t fight him, it was too much like what had happened between her and Daniel and she wanted…

She wanted Dirty.

“Okay,” she whispered, her voice wavering. “But I don’t know what to do.”

? ? ?

Fight him.

Aw shit, he was begging. Begging like he’d done as a child. Begging for love from his twisted cunt of a foster mother, begging for food and money, begging because those sick f*ckers had liked it when he’d begged. Anger rose inside of him, anger and hatred and self-disgust.

And then…

He could see the unease, the panic, in Ellie’s expression, and as much as he hated being the reason for any negative emotions within her, a sense of familiarity and comfort enveloped Dirty. He was disgusting. He was motherf*cking repugnant. Ugly. Unwanted. There was nothing, not one goddamn thing, appealing about him.

Inside Ellie, his dick began to throb.

“Okay,” she whispered. “But I don’t know what to do.”