It was supposed to be a routine case, but the handsome ex-con sitting across from her refused to plead guilty even though he had clearly been caught red handed.
He says he didn’t commit the robbery, says he had a reasonable explanation for everything that had happened. He says he can show me.
How could what he claims be true? How could he have that sort of control over anyone? Do I dare take him up on his offer? Could I possibly resist him?
Excerpt
I felt his hand in my hair, pulling me off and tilting my head up to stare into his face. His eyes betrayed no emotion, he looked at me with the same expression he had maintained this whole time.
There was a need then, a need I realized. More than anything else, more than satisfying him or myself, I needed to break him. To break his composure. To break his icy facade.
I needed him to need me, and I would stop at nothing to do that.
“Strip for me,” he said.
I complied.