My Great Escape Led Me to You (Emily Blair) novel Chapter 28

Andrew Lane pinned her hands above her head, his body pressing her into the mattress, caging her in with a strength that left no room for escape. The sharp, clean scent of pine on him filled her every breath.

He ignored her protests, leaning down until his face was at her neck. Like a wolf staking its territory, he inhaled her scent. His rough, calloused palm slid beneath her shirt, fingers tracing the curve of her waist.

Emily Blair trembled, every muscle taut with fear. “Andrew, don’t touch me.”

People always said men could separate sex from love.

Once, Emily hadn’t believed that.

In her previous life, when Andrew used her without restraint, she’d thought it was out of love.

It took her years to understand: love was the diamond ring on Isabella Austin’s finger, love was their lavish wedding, love was the open favoritism Andrew never bothered to hide. Love was every exception he made—for Isabella, never for her.

Andrew didn’t hear her, or didn’t care to. He pressed his mouth to her neck and bit down, hard.

Emily’s eyes went wide with pain. “Get off me! Don’t touch me!”

Slowly, Andrew lifted his head. His eyes were dark and unreadable, his lips pressed into a hard, unfeeling line—the same cold expression she’d seen so many times before.

“What? It’s fine for you to sleep around with your college friends, but I’m not allowed to touch you?”

Emily sucked in a shaky breath, glaring at him. “So what if I did? You and Isabella are getting back together—why are you here, bothering me?”

“I thought I’d made myself clear,” she said, voice brittle. “We’re over—”

Suddenly, Andrew straightened, towering over her. He grabbed her face, fingers digging into her cheeks, silencing her words.

Her fair skin was delicate, and his grip left angry red marks. Tears welled in her wide, glassy eyes, and her lips were parted, trembling. She looked heartbreakingly fragile—beautiful in her brokenness.

Her shirt had slipped off one shoulder, baring the thin line of her collarbone. Purple bruises stood out starkly against her pale skin, the sight tinged with a cruel intimacy.

He glanced at her once, indifferent. “Suit yourself.”

With that, he strode out, as if afraid Isabella might have to wait one minute longer than necessary.

Emily knew the Lane family had the city in the palm of their hand. But she wasn’t going to let them crush her without a fight.

She’d taken the day off and gone straight to the police station to report what had happened.

But Amelia Lane had been careful; the alley she’d chosen had no cameras, nothing to prove that Emily’s injuries had come from her and her hired thugs.

A police officer handed Emily a cup of hot tea, his voice gentle. “Is there anyone else who might have seen anything? Any other evidence you can think of?”

Emily took a slow sip, then looked up, sudden hope flickering in her eyes. “There is one other person.”