Rock Bottom (Tristan & Danika #2)(71)

“Talk? You f**king divorced me, and now you want to talk?” His hands moved up into my hair, gripping hard enough to make my eyes water.

“Yes. Please calm down. I have something important to tell you. We need to go somewhere private. I don’t want to do this here.”

His hands went to my hips, and he heaved me onto the edge of the counter. I could tell that he was impaired at that moment, but he still showed no actual strain when he handled my weight. It was nothing for him.

He pried apart my legs, moving his hips between, his eyes on his hands as he inched my skirt up, pushing it high.

I used both hands to try to keep myself as covered as I could, but he just batted them away, exposing my panties to anyone that cared to look. He didn’t seem to realize that we weren’t alone, his apartment full of strangers.

“Stop,” I pled softly. “Please, stop.”

“What, you’re not ready?” As he spoke, his hands moved to the top button of my dress, situated right at my cle**age. He pulled at it roughly, popping off two buttons with a few swift tugs. “Who was all of this for? Tell me.”

“You’re out of control, and you need to stop.” I tried to make my voice firm, but it came out trembling and scared.

Tristan didn’t seem to notice, his eyes heavy-lidded as he gazed down at my body. “It’s been so long, and you come to me like this. Such easy access, so ready to take. You obviously wanted someone tonight. Don’t I do it for you anymore?”

He fondled me, grasping hard at my soft flesh. I’d be bruised in the morning, but he wasn’t done.

He kissed me savagely, thrusting his tongue down my throat. I nearly gagged, the taste of alcohol was so strong on his breath. He pawed at me and plundered my mouth, none of his normal finesse present. It was as though he’d totally forgotten his own strength.

Tristan was gone tonight. Before me was a stranger.

I wasn’t sure what to do, but I knew I couldn’t continue to let him touch me, not like this.

He popped another button off my dress, and then another. I’d felt daring when I’d put it on, and hadn’t worn a bra. What a mistake that had been. I’d be topless before long.

He bent down, sucking from my neck down to my chest, biting a sensitive nipple hard enough to make me whimper.

“Like that, do you?” he mumbled against my skin.

I tried to push him off, but of course it was no use. He could handle grown men like rag dolls, and I was certainly no match. I’d taken for granted how much he kept that brutal strength in check for me with every touch, but he wasn’t keeping it in check now. I moaned in pain as he again grabbed me too hard.

One of his stranger hands snaked down my body, and I scrabbled to keep it away from his goal, but it was in vain.

He pushed one huge finger inside of me, and I cried out in dismay.

I was noticeably dry, and so it hurt, but the dryness had one small saving grace; it seemed to take him out of his strange spell.

He reared back, staring at me. “What, you don’t want this?”

I shook my head emphatically. “No, no, no,” I whispered in a chant.

“Then what the f**k did you come here for?” he roared, backing away from me.

“To talk.”

“So you’re telling me no?”

“At the moment I am. I can’t handle you like this.”

“Oh, you can’t? You think you’re the only piece of ass around here?” He lurched away.

I quickly stood and tried to right my clothes. Tristan had disappeared around the corner, and I wasn’t at all sad about it. I needed to get away from him and fast, and stay away until he was himself again.

He came back while I was still standing propped against the counter, holding the front of my dress together and wondering what on earth I was going to do. I couldn’t stand the thought of just leaving with nothing settled, and I felt too shaken to walk across the room, let alone drive home.

He was holding the picture of the two of us on our wedding day, the one that hung above his bed

He thrust it at me.

I took it, using it to cover my top half.

“Take it. I don’t want to look at it anymore. It obviously didn’t mean a damn thing to you, anyway.” He stumbled away.

Dean startled a yelp out of me when he spoke to me closely from behind. “Come here, Danika, come have a seat on the couch. I cleared a spot for you.” His tone was uncharacteristically gentle, which I didn’t trust, but I followed him into the living room. I did need to sit down.

I sat down on the vacated couch, clutching our wedding photo in front of me, and staring off into space. I was shaking, head to toe.

Dean crouched down in front of me, his brow furrowed, as though he was concerned. Who was this man? Another stranger. “Let me get you some juice. I think it will help. You look like you’re in shock. You could use a little sugar, I think.”

I nodded, feeling too numb to even try to figure out why he was acting this way. His words were noticeably slurred, so I knew he was drunk, but I’d seen him drunk plenty of times, and he’d never been this nice.

He left just as Tristan came into the room, two groupies in tow. I knew that they were groupies by the trashy way they were dressed, and the vacant look in both of their eyes.

I shook my head slowly, just wanting the night to end.