The Suspect

chapter 16

[lol, it's been a while so here is a little recap in literally 2-3 sentences. Tatum texts Willow with a lead. Willow meets Tatum and as usual, they argue. She feels sick and faints. She wakes up in a cabin with Tatum and—shocker—they get into an argument again and she slams the door on him.]

I'm almost halfway down the driveway when I hear footsteps behind me.

"Damn it, don't leave," I hear him shout but I keep walking.

I'm so caught up in my head with all of this that I don't even notice how it's freezing outside. And snowing. SNOWING? My arms instantly wrap themselves around my body and even though I have no fucking clue where I'm headed, my legs don't stop.

"Can you just fucking stop?!" he badgers and I shake my head.

"Fuck off," that should do it, right?

But it doesn't. He catches up to me in two long strides and yanks me back into him. My back hits the metal of his belt and a sharp sting surges through me. He must hear me wince and still in pain since he immediately lets me go and creates some distance between us.

Turning around I meet his gaze, filled with anger and desire. His face lightly softens at my bloodshot and puffy eyes; still not dry from all the tears that fell out.

He groans and drops his head, "Fuck, I.......cry," he mutters under his breath and I don't quite catch it.

"What was that?"

Sighing, he jerks his head back up, "I didn't mean to make you cry,"

Looks like his little stone-cold heart is finally melting bit by bit, huh?

I scoff and throw my hands in the air, "It's now etched itself into my daily routine, so not that it really matters to me what you may feel or believe, but thank you for having a heart," I watch his chest slowly heave deeper and deeper as he takes in the sarcasm coating my words.

A chill goes through me and I notice that the breeze has become stronger, snow falling at a faster pace. Fuck, I didn't think this through since I hoped that exit was as dramatic as it looked in my head.

"Can you just get back in, you're going to freeze out here." I almost don't believe his words but he's right.

"I am not getting back in there. Especially with you," I add and see his lip twitch.

"What? Don't trust yourself to be alone with me?" he taunts and my eyes snap to meet his.

"Sorry to deflate your little big balloon of ego but no, I trust myself completely. It's you I don't trust," I seethe out and see him take a step towards me.

I've figured out his strategy now. Tick me off and get me to argue with him. That's step one. Then, he switches into his taunting and desirable character; making everything seem sexual and using our one night of passion as a driving force; step two. Step three, and probably the one that always works, is when I don't realize he's right in front of me; occupying my space and air. That's what gets me. Like it is right now, at this very moment.

"Afraid you'll want to give in to this," he points between us.

Is he serious?

"This?" I laugh like that term isn't in my dictionary at all, "I wasn't aware there was a 'this'."

"There could be," is all he says for me to go silent and for my stomach to flip.

Step four, let her give in, make her feel wanted and desired; and then drop her.