Free Condemned by Gemma James Page A

the only guy I’d ever loved. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” I said it over and over, wishing he’d believe me, wishing I could turn back time. “If you need to talk about it—”
    “Shut up.” He returned me to my side and trapped me against his body. “It’s late. Get some damn sleep.” Instead of returning me to the cellar, he clung to me, one hand fisting my hair while the other claimed my breast. His legs tangled with mine.
    I knew this conversation was far from over. He wouldn’t stop until he got the truth, and I wondered how long I could hold out. How many choke holds could I handle? How many hours suspended by my wrists, alone in the cold, dank cellar? How many times could I withstand him torturing me with sex?
    I brought my fists up, pressed them to trembling lips, and dug sharp fingernails into my palms. When it came to Rafe, I never knew what was coming next, and I didn’t know what he was capable of, especially in light of his admission. I shuddered to think of what he’d been through. I was a pampered, spoiled brat. Selfish to the core. I should have stopped it. I should have spoken up and told the police the truth, but as the first hours passed, most of them spent in a state of shock, I lost what small bit of courage I might have possessed. Hours turned into days…days into months…months into years.
    All the while, Rafe had been in hell.
    For all the tough guy front he put up, I believed he did care about me, somewhere inside him where the guy I remembered still existed. He might have loved me, if things had turned out differently. If I hadn’t wrecked him.
    Life was what it was. I couldn’t change the past. I could only deal with the present as it hurtled toward me.
    Sometime later, his breathing evened into gentle snores, and I carefully tugged my hair from his fist and lifted his warm palm from my breast. Little by little, I extricated myself from his hold and crawled from bed. When a floorboard creaked under my foot, I froze, fear rising in my throat in the form of a lump. He didn’t move. I swallowed hard and inched toward the panel that would drop the ladder onto the first floor.
    God, I was quaking like a leaf. The situation reminded me of one of those scary movies I used to make Lucas watch with me—the ones where I’d yell at the heroine, lamenting her stupidity because there was no way she was getting out of there alive.
    I had to. For both our sakes. I didn’t hold anything against him. The horrors he’d experienced in prison were my fault. I wouldn’t take that from him, wouldn’t attempt to deflect blame. We all made choices, some good, some bad. When it came to bad decisions, Rafe and I were batting one for one.
    So I had to get out of there before the situation escalated and he did something we’d both regret.
    I kept his sleeping form in my periphery and released the ladder. It dropped to the floor with a ridiculous amount of racket, and my whole body stiffened. He rolled over, underneath the layers of blankets, and for a moment I wanted to crawl back into bed with him. What a ridiculous notion.
    As soon as his soft snores resumed, a burst of adrenaline shot through me. I climbed down the steps and landed with a soft thud on the hardwood floor. I turned in the darkened room, thankful for the heavy rain hitting the roof in a cacophony of taps and dings. Under the cover of noise and shadow, I rushed through the house in search of my clothes. Heck, I’d settle for a jacket at this point.
    If need be, I’d walk out of that house buck-naked.
    I headed toward the kitchen, hoping to find a coat in the closet by the door. Turning the corner, I shook with a mixture of anticipation and dread. It was deja vu , and I was back in my house on the night of my engagement, preparing to take hold of freedom with both hands, to hell with the consequences.
    I smashed into a body, and at first I thought it was Rafe until the deep voice registered—a voice I didn’t recognize.
    “What