“And you think I want to hurt you?”

“Why wouldn’t you? Stop that,” he tsked and put his hands to her face. Gently the pads of his thumbs brushed over her cheeks. “Do you forgive me?”

Did she? Something big and ugly and tangled sat within her, dying to get out. Something rib-bustingly, heart-burstingly horrible, and it was all his fault. Her insides hurt. He made it impossible to breathe. She couldn’t stand it any longer.

“You’re crazy.” Roslyn dropped the knife and pushed aside his hands. “How could you do that to me?”

Big hands enclosed her shoulders and drew her in. Violently she shrugged him off and shoved at him. Her palms slapped against his chest so hard they stung. The man actually stumbled back a step, proof of his own obviously addled state. “The chain or the knife?”

“Both.”

“Look at me,” he said quietly. “Please?”

She didn’t want to, but she did. The pull he had on her was horrible. “What?”

“Hey.” He gave her a contrite look, forehead furrowed and eyes full of woe. A spot of blood slid down his neck from the small cut. “I’m sorry I hurt your hand.”

She jerked a shoulder, as close to a shrug as she could manage. Every part of her ached.

“Is it alright?” he asked.

“It’s fine,” she said. “I just said that so you’d cut the crap with the knife.”

“Did you?” The side of his mouth kicked up into a smile and small lines wrinkled beside his eyes. “Huh.”

“You’re an idiot, but I don’t want to kill you.”

“No?” His voice sounded deep and hoarse. It rumbled right through her. “What do you want to do with me?”

She threw her hands wide in exasperation and he grabbed at them. With a growl she stepped back, wrapped her arms tight around herself. “No. I don’t know.”

“But you don’t hate me.”

After everything he’d done to her, she ought to. It was inexcusable that she didn’t hate him with an unholy passion. But she didn’t. Not even a little, just like he’d said.

Shit.

Guilt smothered her. Her eyelids squeezed tight. She shook her head, scowling so hard she could feel a headache coming on. Pain crept up the side of her face and fuzzed up her mind. How perfect, feeling bad for not despising someone. How ridiculous. She’d always tried to be a good person, tried to do the right thing. Falling into a big black hole of negativity never helped anyone, only he drove her insane.

He made to touch her and she shifted back as far as she could, which wasn’t far enough.

“Nick, stop it. You’re giving me a headache.”

His hands grabbed for her again. No way did she want him touching her, but he easily evaded her swats. Fingers curved over her h*ps and attempted to pull her in, managing to drag her one reluctant step forward.

“Say it,” he demanded.

“Stop.” She opened her eyes and hit out at him. Her bruised knuckles stung and her arms sagged weakly. “Let me go.”

“No.” Nick leant back, trying to evade her half-assed punches. Then he apparently gave up and got closer instead. He hid his face in her hair and wrapped his arms around her. His breath tickled her neck. She flailed and fussed but he was strong. Strong enough to keep her exactly where he wanted her, as he had shown time and again. His hard arms held her tight, no matter how she squirmed. The prod of his hard c**k was blazingly obvious against her belly, pissing her off even worse.

Anger kept the adrenalin pumping. Her whole body felt alive with it, shaky, edgy and wired. Not even remotely under control. She could have spit and raged and cussed him a treat. Then come back for more.

Like with Neil back at the school, she wanted to do this man harm. He’d hurt her. He continued to hurt her. So she should hurt him back. Shouldn’t she?

Nothing seemed clear anymore. She liked knowing her place in the world. How she fit. And she didn’t fit with him, no matter what other parts of her tried to say otherwise. Those thoughts were illusory and artificial. She wouldn’t listen to them.

Nick was totally wrong for her in every goddamn way.

“It’s okay,” he said with his mouth pressed against her ear. “It’s okay, Roslyn. I’m here.”

“I know,” she cried. Everything in her world was so f**ked up and wrong she didn’t know where to start. She could have drowned in the self-pity. At least it would have brought it all to an end. “I know you’re here. That’s the problem.”

She could feel him laughing before she heard him, the motion of his chest bumping lightly against hers.

The f**ker.

She’d kill him. She’d pick the knife back up and this time she’d …

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Nick thought he might be losing it. A brain cell at a time she’d done him in, broken him down. Maybe he should just pick up the knife and hand it back to her. She sure as hell wouldn’t fight him over it a second time. The situation being so f**ked, what else could he do but laugh? What a mess. Hysteria may have helped him along. He didn’t feel much in control of himself just then. No one had ever gotten to him like Roslyn did.

Soft hands still pushed at this chest, trying to win free. All the squirming didn’t help things. It felt far too f**king good. He needed to apologize properly. Talk some sense to her and cool the situation off. He’d had no business scaring her that way.