Escape from Mr. Whitman (Emma and Theodore) novel Chapter 100

Chapter 100

“Where are you taking me?” Emma frowned, her voice tight with suspicion.

Theodore didn’t answer. He kept his eyes on the road, his tone gentle but evasive. “You’ll know when we get there.”

“I’m not going. I want to go to my grandma’s. Just drop me off–I’m getting out!” She grabbed the door handle, ready to bolt.

“Emma!” Theodore’s heart jumped. Thinking she might actually jump out, he slammed on the brakes.

Emma had nearly gotten the door open when he lunged across the console, catching her hand and pinning it beneath his. “Emma, why are you so on guard around me? Don’t you trust me at all?”

She glared at him, a cold laugh escaping her lips. “Do you really think I still trust you?”

She’d nearly lost her life in his company–how could he possibly expect her to trust

him now?

For a second, Theodore’s eyes flickered, his brow furrowing in frustration. “Emma, I know what you must be thinking. But no matter how much of a jackass I am, I would

never hurt you.”

So he actually admitted he was a jackass…

Inside the cramped car, his hand still pressed down on hers. His whole body loomed over her, his scent flooding her senses–something unfamiliar, tinged with the

artificial fragrance of some new shampoo.

She recoiled, hating that unfamiliar smell, hating how close he was.

Holding her breath, she shoved at him with her free hand.

Suddenly, he froze, his gaze locked on her.

“Theodore, you-”

She didn’t get to finish. Without warning, he leaned in, pressing his lips to her cheek. If she hadn’t jerked away at the last moment, he would have kissed her full on the lips.

“Theodore, have you lost your mind?” she spat, feeling him press in even closer. He caught her right hand and pinned her completely against the passenger seat.

“I’m not crazy,” he murmured, his lips brushing her neck. “Emma, we’ve been married

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five years. Maybe it’s time we had a child.”

Emma went rigid.

This man–who hadn’t touched her in five years–was suddenly talking about a baby?

She couldn’t help but wonder: if he’d said these words just a few weeks ago, would she have been overjoyed? Would she have cried tears of happiness?

Too late now.

Thank God, it was too late.

“Theodore, I don’t want a child with you. Marital rape is still rape,” she said coldly. “You’d better stop.”

He didn’t stop. He kissed her cheek again, but then he finally eased off–sliding to her ear instead. “Of course I wouldn’t do it here. Our child isn’t going to be conceived in

the car, is it?”

As he spoke, the air inside the car thickened with the chemical scent of his shampoo.

Emma felt smothered, as if she couldn’t breathe.

She twisted her head away, holding her breath to keep his presence out. Rage burned in her voice. “Theodore! Don’t touch me with your filthy hands. Don’t come near me with your filthy mouth!”

She braced herself for his anger–but it didn’t come. Instead, he kept holding her, even giving her earlobe a quick, playful pinch. “What’s this? Jealous, are you? Or are you angry because you think I spent the night at Cici’s place?”

Suddenly, he let out a low laugh and released her, sliding back into the driver’s seat. “Relax. I was at a hotel last night, not with anyone. Stop letting your imagination run

wild.”

Emma rolled down the window. Crisp, fresh air rushed in, and she gulped it down, letting it clear the suffocating pressure in her chest–and her mind.

What was Theodore even talking about? Did he really think she was still jealous?

Ridiculous.

She didn’t even bother to argue. No matter what she said, he’d never believe her anyway. He was so sure she loved him–so sure that no matter how much he hurt her, she’d always be jealous, always want him.

Theodore, in a few weeks you’ll finally see the truth–whether I could ever still be

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jealous for you.

Chapter 101