Unstable (Sequel to Twisted)

Chapter 4

Chapter Four

Okay...now...

I gingerly sat up on the bed, cringing when it slightly creaked under the shift of weight. I was able to toss my legs over the edge before I felt Harry grab tightly onto my wrist, pulling me easily down on top of him. I immediately tried pulling away, but his hands immediately overpowered me, and I was left straddling him. Thick strands of my auburn hair hung limply in my face, and I stared down at Harry in the hazy darkness of my room. Ever since I moved here I had the drapes of my window wide open so it wouldn't get dark. But of course, the first thing Harry did was close them completely, because I knew perfectly well he could only sleep when it was pitch dark.

"Where do you think you're going?" His raspy voice, thick with exhaustion, asked. I felt his hands leave my wrists and fall on my thighs, gently squeezing the thick skin.

"I was going to the bathroom." I replied quietly.

I sat up a little on the bed, propping his back up against the headboard and I could see his lips whorl into a half smirk, "You didn't ask me."

"I don't have to ask you." I froze when I realized what I had said. My ass seemed to throb as a painful reminder that now I couldn't talk to Harry like that. Fourteen days ago, I could have-but times have changed. Unfortunately.

I thought maybe Harry had a chance of...I don't know, becoming a better person? I was starting to slowly see the goodness inside of him. But now it looked like we were back to square one.

And it wasn't even my fault.

"I'll admit," Harry said, "I've missed your little attitude, Claire." I felt his hands slowly reach around my thighs, easily cupping my back end and I stiffened, inhaling sharply when my skin prickled under his mere touch. I closed my eyes tightly, my heart stopping dead in my chest. "I really don't mind reminding you of who's in charge. It amuses me."

"How can this possibly be amusing?" I asked in a low breath.

"It's amusing because you actually think you can overpower me." Harry replied, raising one hand to run it down my cheeks. I immediately pulled away from his touch, opening my eyes to give him a steely glare. "You actually think your words can make a difference in what I do. But you forget who I am. I'm the one in control. I call the shots." His voice turned edgy, and a small voice in the back of my head claimed he was saying this mostly to himself, trying to convince himself that he had everything under control, when in reality, everything was out of his control. He wasn't back in London; he didn't have low-life gangs cowering at his feet, practically kissing the ground he walked on. No, he was in the real world. He was in my world, and he definitely didn't belong here. It was exactly how I didn't belong in London. Our situations have strangely reversed in a span of 14 days.

I shouldn't be afraid of him. I could grab a phone and have him arrested very easily. Surely he still had a notorious reputation that a lot of people knew of. I didn't know how he got out of jail back in London, but there was no way he could pull that off again.

He had no power.

And it was killing him, tearing him up inside. I could see it written all over his eyes. It was then I realized that was why he was making such a huge point in showing his dominance over me-I was quite literally the only person he still had control over, excluding the rest of the boys.

I clenched my teeth as I stared down at him. His eyes were taunting me, daring me to object to him. I remembered when I first met him, and how I would easily mouth off to him. I was such a different person-so unaware of the horrors of the world. But the more time I spent with the man underneath me, the more I could feel my entire perspective on everything I once knew change...