Chapter 82 Did I Hurt You?

Chapter 82 Did I Hurt You?

Isabella's POV

"Stay where you are. Five minutes." Then he hung up.

Less than five minutes later, a black Mercedes G-Class SUV screeched to a stop at the alley entrance near the bar street, tires squealing as it drifted into position.

The car door banged open.

Terrence strode toward me with long steps.

I stood in the cold wind, shaking all over.

He walked up to me, his eyes sweeping over my thin crop top and the short skirt that barely covered my thighs. He didn't ask a single question. He just took off his black jacket and wrapped it around me, zipping it all the way up until I was completely covered.

"Get in the car."

I obeyed and climbed into the passenger seat.

The heat was turned all the way up inside the car.

We drove into the old district. He drove fast and steady the whole way.

Back at the apartment.

The living room was pitch black. That asshole Maurice obviously wasn't home yet.

I kicked off my heels and walked barefoot to the kitchen, wanting to pour myself some water. But my hands were shaking too badly.

The glass clinked against the edge of the sink with a crisp sound.

Crack.

The glass slipped from my hand and shattered in the sink, water splashing all over me.

I stared blankly at the sink as tears started falling without warning.

Heavy footsteps came from behind me.

Terrence walked into the kitchen. He ignored the broken glass and walked straight up to me. His hands gripped my waist, and with a gentle lift, he picked me up and set me on the kitchen counter.

My legs dangled in the air. He took a step forward, his tall, solid body pressing right between my thighs.

Too close.

He looked down at me. "Tell me what happened."

I bit my lip and shook my head hard. I didn't want to say it. Didn't want to tell him how pathetic I'd been, didn't want to tell him Maurice had left me for another woman.

"Isabella."

He raised one hand, his rough thumb pressing against my chin, forcing me to look up at him.

"Talk."

My tears fell harder, and I finally broke down.

"There was a guy... in the alley," I sobbed between broken words. "He blocked my way, reeking of alcohol... he touched my leg..."

His hand on my waist suddenly tightened.

"Which hand did he touch you with?" he said through gritted teeth.

"I don't know... then a girl helped me and chased him away."

I was crying so hard I could barely breathe. "Then I went back to find Maurice... he was drunk, Sophia was sitting on his lap... I asked him to come home with me, and he said I was killing the mood."

As I spoke, I unconsciously raised my right hand to wipe my tears.

Terrence suddenly grabbed my right hand. The movement was quick, but his grip was extremely gentle.

The hallway light shone into the kitchen, clearly illuminating the shocking bruise around my delicate wrist. It was a handprint from someone twisting it hard, the skin already turning a terrible purple-red underneath.

His chest heaved violently.

"He did this."

It wasn't a question, it was a statement.

I didn't speak, just lowered my head in silent confirmation.

"Damn it."

Terrence cursed under his breath.

He lowered his head, his lips almost touching the bruise on my wrist, but he didn't kiss it. He just used his rough thumb to stroke the edge of that purple mark, extremely slowly, extremely gently.

"Don't touch it," I flinched.

"Did I hurt you?" He immediately let go and looked up at me.

"No," I shook my head.

He sighed.

Then he bent down slightly, one hand sliding under my knees, the other supporting my back, and lifted me off the counter again.

He carried me through the cramped living room and straight into my bedroom. He kicked the door shut with his foot and gently set me down on the creaky single bed.

I sat on the edge of the bed, watching him kneel in front of me.

He reached out and gripped my ankle.

"Terrence," I gasped, trying to pull back.

"Don't move."

He kept his head down, not looking at me. With practiced ease, he unzipped my boots and pulled off those uncomfortable ankle boots, tossing them aside. Then the socks.

He lifted my legs and tucked them under the covers, then pulled the blanket up to my chin, tucking in the edges.

After finishing all this, he stood up and turned to leave.

"Terrence."

I reached out from under the covers and grabbed the hem of his black long-sleeve shirt.

He stopped and looked back at me.

"Don't go." My voice was shaking, thick with tears and pleading. "I'm scared... can you stay with me?"

In this small, dim bedroom, I didn't want to be alone. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw that man's disgusting face in the alley, and Maurice's impatience when he shook off my hand.

Terrence stood by the bed, his deep eyes filled with emotions I couldn't understand.

"Isabella." His Adam's apple bobbed with difficulty. "Do you know what you're asking?"

"Please." I didn't let go, but gripped tighter instead.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Then he gave in.

He took off his boots, lifted the corner of the blanket, and lay down beside me.

This single bed was too small. So small that when a man his size lay down, there was no space between us at all.

His body pressed tightly against mine.

He stretched out his strong, muscular arm, sliding it under my neck, and pulled me into his embrace. My face pressed directly against his broad, hard chest. Through the thin fabric, I could hear his heartbeat—heavy, wild, alarmingly fast.

"Close your eyes and sleep." His chin rested on top of my head, his other hand on my back, patting gently, like soothing a small animal. "I'll be right here. No one will touch you again."

His voice carried a reassuring strength in the darkness.

I closed my eyes. I thought I would fall asleep quickly.

But I didn't.

Because as time passed, I felt something unusual that made my whole body heat up.

Terrence's body was tense like a rock. My thigh pressed tightly against his thigh.

And just below my flat stomach, through the blanket and clothes, I felt something clear and unmistakable—something hot, hard, and growing larger. His cock pressed insistently against the inside of my thigh, radiating impossible-to-ignore heat.

My whole body stiffened, my breathing stopped.

I didn't dare move, not even a finger.

But I knew he knew I felt it.

In the darkness, his hand on my back suddenly stopped. His breathing became heavier and rougher, each exhale hot against the top of my head.

His arm around my waist suddenly tightened, and his lower body involuntarily thrust forward. His erect cock pressed even harder between my legs.

"Terrence," I whispered his name in fear.