The cold air of the air conditioner had goosebumps pebbling my skin as I stared at Mack in nothing but my underwear, wondering what he was going to do to me. I should’ve been trying to run away from him with the way he was staring at me, as if he wanted to do something incredibly sinful to me, but I remained lying under him.
“So tell me, little nymph, who gave you the permission to wear lace for another man?” Mack asked, in a soft voice which was saturated with rage.
I jutted my chin out in defiance. “They’re my clothes and I can wear whatever I want for whoever I want.” I knew it was the wrong thing to say, but I wasn’t exactly in my senses. The alcohol was working its magic on my nerves, making me stupidly brave in front of the man who wouldn’t hesitate to kill me if he wanted.
He
