Reliving that night, I didn’t have to think hard to know what he meant. That night was the beginning of everything, the night that had turned me into his favorite source of amusement, his personal punching bag. I looked at him directly, meeting his dark eyes—eyes that were exactly the same as they had been that night. I took a step back, yanking my arm free from his grip.
“Please. I know better than to repeat that mistake.”
His gaze darkened, but this time, it wasn’t out of desire. He glanced down at the hand I’d pushed away, then back at me. “Mistake, huh?”
“Yes. Isn’t that the whole reason you’re doing this? Believe it or not, I’m not the kind of girl who sleeps around. What happened that night was a mistake, and yeah, I feel bad about it. I’m sorry. But I don’t want anything to happe
