Condemned by Gemma James Read Free Book Online

breakfast. I won’t tolerate you starving yourself. Not under my roof.”
    Warmth flooded my face as I slid from the chair to my knees, and as I used my hands to shovel in mouthfuls of eggs, the same old shame surfaced. It was never far, always hidden beneath layers of forged normalcy. “I haven’t had a problem with that in six months,” I said, despising the weak quality of my voice. The eggs didn’t want to go down, and I almost gagged. The potatoes weren’t much better.
    “Good, and we’re going to keep it that way.”
    “How did you know?” I asked. He’d just been released from prison, so how had he found out about my problem with anorexia?
    “I know everything about you.”
    Our eyes connected and held, and I searched for the truth, because surely he didn’t mean everything . Seconds ticked past, each one whittling away my thin grasp on sanity. I held my breath, horrified by the possibility that he knew .
    He broke our stare, his expression unchanged, and I exhaled in relief. Silence ensued, interrupted by the scrape of his fork against china, but it wasn’t the uncomfortable kind of disquiet that made every second feel like an eternity. My mind was numb. I hadn’t processed, and I wasn’t ready to do so.
    “Why did you starve yourself?” he asked, jerking me to awareness.
    I had no idea how to explain. I couldn’t explain, not without going into things I didn’t want to reveal, like how after the first inpatient treatment, I’d relapsed on purpose because being locked inside that facility had been the most peaceful three months I’d experienced in a long time. My treatment had kept Zach away. “I don’t know.”
    “Bullshit.”
    I scooped up a handful of potatoes. “It started after…” I began, raising my eyes to his, “after you went away.”
    “Your eating disorder is my fault then?”
    “No, that’s not what I meant. I was dealing with a lot of stuff and—”
    “Save it, Alex. I’m sure you were really struggling in your daddy’s mansion, going out on the weekends with boyfriends and friends, loading up your closets with expensive clothes. Spare me the sob story, ‘cause I’m not buying.”
    “Why’d you ask then?” With a tilt of my head, I raised my brows.
    “Don’t get smart with me. I thought you might actually tell the truth for once in your life.” He pushed back from the table. “Clear the table and load the dishwasher.” He swept a hand toward the messy floor. “And clean up this mess.”
    Indignation rose, but I kept my mouth shut. Rising to my feet, I grabbed my plate from the floor and his from the table before making my way to the sink. I took my time scrubbing the few dishes from breakfast, and after I’d loaded them into the dishwasher, I slammed the door, turned around, and found him watching me. He was leaning against the counter, arms crossed and biceps bulging.
    “I need a broom.”
    He fetched one from a closet near the door leading to God knew where. Where the hell had he taken me? I saw nothing but trees, though the distinct hum of a highway gave me hope that help existed beyond all the thick foliage.
    He shoved the broom into my hands, and our fingers brushed together—the kind of touch that lingered enough to make me shiver. I swallowed hard and swept up the mess, sensing him behind me the whole time. His warm palms settled on my hips, fingers curling around to my front. I swayed into his body.
    “Can…can I ask you something, Rafe?”
    “You can ask.”
    “Have you…” My voice faltered, and I had to swallow hard in order to force the question out. “Have you had sex since getting out?”
    He trembled. “No,” he groaned as he dipped a finger inside me, and I quaked at the thought that he hadn’t been with anyone in such a long time.
    “Now it’s my turn to ask you something,” he said. “Just how badly do you want me to fuck you?”
    A whimper escaped. It was no secret my body wanted him, had always wanted him. But me, the