Free Because He Torments Me by Hannah Ford Page B

perfect.”
    “Then I don’t understand, I don’t…” I licked my
bottom lip, trying to gather my thoughts, trying to figure out a way to get
through to him.
    His hand curled around mine, our fingers
intertwining.
    “That can’t happen again,” he said.
    I took in a breath through my nose, my rage
reigniting.   This again?   I hated that he kept saying that, and my
first instinct was to throw a fit, to yell at him, to march out of there and
tell him to leave me alone. But that tactic obviously hadn’t been working.
    “You keep saying that,” I said instead.   “And yet it keeps happening.”
    “No, you don’t understand.”   He shook his head and then opened his mouth
to say something before changing his mind and stopping.
    “Help me understand,” I said softly, tightening
my fingers around his hand.
    “What happened in there just now…” He shook his
head.   “I couldn’t control it.”
    “So?   I wanted it to happen, Callum.”   I didn’t understand what the big deal was.   I had a safe word to use if I needed
it.   I liked what we’d done, liked how rough he was with me.   It turned me on to submit to him, to let
him have his way with me.
    He swallowed and took his hand from mine before steepling his fingers together.   His foot tapped impatiently against the
hardwood floor, his body wired with nervous energy.
    He looked at me, his eyes locking on mine.   “I can’t stay away from you,” he said,
sounding awestruck.
    “Then don’t,” I said, putting my hand back on
his arm, tracing my fingers over the rippled muscle of his bicep.   “I don’t want you to stay away from me.”
    “I have to.   I’m not good for you, Adriana.”
    “Let me decide that.”
    “No, you don’t understand,” he said again,
frustrated.   He stood up and began
pacing back and forth in front of the couch.   “This was not supposed to happen.    My rule is one night.   One night only.”
    “Yeah, well, you broke it.”   I shrugged, trying to lighten the
situation.   And then I
remembered.   Rose.   The girl who’d shown up
at the restaurant that day, the whispered conversation on the balcony in
Florida.   “Do you have a
girlfriend?” I asked.   “Is that what
this is about?”
    “What?   God, no.”
    I looked around the room.   “Then why did you bring me here?”
    “What?”
    “This obviously isn’t where you live,
Callum.   This is obviously some kind
of bachelor pad, some kind of secret love nest where you take women so you can
tie them to your bed and fuck them.”
    He didn’t answer, and I knew I was right.   “So what am I supposed to think?”
    “I don’t have a girlfriend.”
    “Then why didn’t we go to your apartment?”
    “I don’t fuck in my apartment.”
    My eyes widened.   “What?”
    “I don’t fuck in my apartment.   Here, the club, Florida, hotel rooms… those
are the places I fuck.”
    “But why?” I asked softly.   “I don’t understand.”
    He sat down next to me and took my hand back in
his, kissed each one of my fingers softly.   “It’s too intimate for me, Adriana, to have a woman at my apartment.”   His gaze moved over my face, searching
for a reaction.   “I have never admitted
that to anyone.   But I want you to
understand me.   I want you to know
me.”  
    He looked at me, his eyes filled with pain, and
I had the sensation of being pulled under by a riptide, that I was giving
myself over to something dangerous and unknown.  
    “Tell me,” I said.   “Make me understand.”
    He didn’t say anything.
    “I need to have control over everything, every
aspect of my life,” he said.   “When
I don’t, bad things happen.”
    I paused, turning this new bit of information
over in my mind.   “Is that why you
don’t drink?”
    He nodded.   “I’ve lost things in my life, important things because of alcohol.   I cannot be around it.   And I cannot be around someone who
drinks.”
    “Okay.”   I swallowed.