Chapter 243
Chapter 243:
His lips crashed against mine, hungry and desperate, tasting of the storm that raged beneath his skin. I melted into him, my hands gripping the lapels of his suit jacket to keep from sliding to the floor. The apartment was vast and shadowed, filled with stacks of unopened cardboard boxes—a temporary camp for a soldier who had never expected to stay. But right now, the only reality was the heat radiating from his body.
“Mine,” he growled against my mouth, his hands roaming over my coat, frantic to reach the skin beneath. “Say it again p>
“Yours,” I breathed, my head spinning. “I’m yours, Dallas p>
He groaned, a low vibration that resonated through my chest. His fingers hooked into the sleeves of my coat to strip it away. I moved to help him, but as the fabric slid down my arms, a sharp hiss of pain escaped my lips.
Dallas froze.
The frantic energy in the room vanished, replaced by a stillness so absolute it was frightening. He didn’t release my hand. Instead, he lifted it slowly, his grip gentle but unyielding, and pushed back the cuff of my sweater.
There, stark against my pale skin, were four ugly purple bruises—finger marks. A brand of violence left by Braydon Hyde.
“He touched you.” Dallas’s voice was devoid of humanity. It was the voice of the beast that lived in his blood.
“It’s nothing,” I stammered, trying to pull my hand back, but he held fast. “It happened in the lobby before you p>
A𝖽𝘥𝗂c𝗍i𝘃𝗲 s𝗍o𝘳𝗶eѕ 𝗈ո
“He put his hands on you.” Dallas wasn’t looking at me. He was staring at the bruises as though they were a personal insult, a declaration of war etched into my flesh.
Then he leaned in and buried his face in the crook of my neck. I thought he was seeking comfort, but his body went rigid against mine. A snarl ripped from his throat, loud and guttural. He jerked back, his black eyes wide with a mixture of horror and rage.
“You smell like him,” he roared, the sound bouncing off the empty walls. “His scent—it’s all over you. Sour. Fear p>
“Dallas, please p>
“Get it off,” he commanded, his breathing ragged. He looked at me without seeing me, his gaze fixed somewhere beyond my face. “I need to get it off p>
Before I could protest, he scooped me up into his arms. I yelped and clutched his shoulders as he strode across the dark living room toward the master bathroom.
“Dallas, put me down p>
He ignored me. He kicked the bathroom door open and marched straight into the massive walk-in shower. He didn’t bother to undress me. He didn’t even remove his own suit. He reached up and wrenched the handle.
I gasped as icy water blasted down from the rainfall head, instantly soaking my clothes and plastering my hair to my face. Within seconds the water turned scalding hot. Steam filled the glass enclosure, thick and suffocating.
“Dallas!” I cried out, blinking against the spray.
He was frantic. He grabbed a loofah and a bottle of body wash, pouring an excessive amount onto the sponge. His eyes were wild, his pupils blown wide and eclipsing the iris.
“It has to go,” he muttered, seizing my arm. He began scrubbing the skin of my neck, right where Braydon’s breath had touched me. “I can still smell him. Why can I still smell him p>