"Christian, what happened was—" I started, trying to wriggle free from his grasp. Fuck, he was too strong.
"Don't say mistake… anything but that, just don't fucking say it," he growled, his grip tightening on my arm. A shiver traced its way down my spine, a mixture of fear and something else I couldn't quite name.
I bit down on my lip, scared and worried. Did he…like it? Was I just another conquest, another fleeting pleasure? So many conflicting thoughts clawed at my mind, but one insistent question remained. Does he love me?
"Christian?" I started, my voice barely a whisper, but he cut me off again.
"Don't even ask that, we both know the answer, Hailey…" He said, finally looking away, and hearing him say my name like that, in that clipped, almost pained tone, stung. It was different from the possessive way he usually said it, the way that usually sent a thrill through me.
The thing was, I wasn't sure what the right answer was anymore. Him looking away fueled a flicker of false hope, and the fact that I couldn't decipher his expression anymore filled me with anxiety. Usually, Christian was an open book – a dark, brooding, savage book, but a book nonetheless. Now, a wall had come up.
"I-I don't know…" I trailed off, mumbling the confession. It hung in the air between us, thick and heavy. My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic drumbeat against the silence.