Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 66997 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 335(@200wpm)___ 268(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66997 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 335(@200wpm)___ 268(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
And now it was back.
Full force.
My body rioted against me. I couldn’t stop the visceral reaction I had to her anymore than I could stop the memory from bubbling to the surface.
“Kiss me.” She’d begged. “Just once.”
She was like oxygen rushing into my body. I kissed her so hard I bruised my own mouth; our teeth clashed along with our hands as we tugged at each other’s clothes. Too many years spent lying next to each other.
Too many years telling ourselves no.
And like the universe wanted to remind us we were never meant to be. The storm cracked across the damn sky.
And our worlds shattered along with the sound of a gun going off.
Never to be the same.
I shake the memory away. It’s like cold water on my hot body, or so I think and then I walk into the room and hear the word watch.
Watch.
Should not trigger me.
Not at all.
It’s a simple command or something that tells time, but because I’m in a bad head space, I’m immediately brough back to when she saw me. It was months before the incident. I’d been so hard I could pound nails. We’d been in the pool, swimming, her top had come off. We laughed like it wasn’t a big deal but I was ready to maul her. An hour later I was in the bathroom rinsing off. Her bathing suit top was hanging up, taunting me, making me insane. I touched it, how the fuck it smelled like the best sunscreen in the world was beyond me.
The shower was scalding.
I braced my body against the shower with one arm and gripped myself with my hand and hissed when I nearly popped off. Over a blue swimsuit top. Shit. I was so close. So close. And then a small gasp erupted from the open door.
“Sorry, I was just,” Her eyes glazed over. “Coming.”
“W-what?” I choked out.
“No! I meant, coming to check on you and.”
“Join me.” I demanded.
“I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
I groaned and pumped harder. “Then watch. Just watch. Watch what you do to me. God, Lilah,” She bit down on her bottom lip, cheeks pink, body still wet. I’ve never felt anything like it, spent like I had nothing left, and was never the same.
Watch. Just watch.
She did.
She fucking did.
And afterwards, she handed me a towel and stared down at my naked bottom half and said. “Can I?”
She touched me.
She touched me before we kissed.
And I ached for her for days.
Ughhh not how the night was supposed to go. I grab the entire bottle of wine, tilt it back, chug, slam it back onto the counter and walk into the room.
Her lower lip is swollen.
I eye it with a cruel smile.
Her nostrils flair.
Oh princess, the days I have planned ahead.
Buckle up. It’s about to get wild.
12
“A secret is a debt. Someone always collects. Someone always bleeds.”—The Count of Monte Cristo
LILAH
I’m late for my only class of the day, which isn’t surprising considering the amount of wine I had the night before. At least I slept. I didn’t see his face but I did, however, wake up to my lower lip looking a bit bruised, leave it to Jude to figure out a way to leave a hate hickey on someone’s lip.
I could still feel his tongue sliding across it, teasing me, taunting me. It was like time stopped in those few brief seconds, and I realized how stupid weak I still was for him.
And I’m convinced it’s just one more way for him to get into my head. Make me fear him then crave him, cool. So basically, his only plan is to make me suffer for the rest of the semester. I find I’m a bit relieved that he’s at least not behind The Dean’s List. On the other hand, if he’s the guy I’m supposed to be seducing in order to stay off of it, I’m completely screwed.
It was difficult when we were in high school and he actually liked me; it would truly be impossible now. He’s the enemy and won’t touch me unless it’s to prove a point.
I quickly chug some of my hot coffee so I can focus on the burn of that versus the burn of Jude. Silly, to think it would work, but I kept drinking anyways.
I check my phone.
It’s ten minutes past start time. At fifteen we can walk. I’m eager to get started on my Princess and the Frog sculpture, and the longer I sit in class the more time it pulls from the studio, I hope whatever new professor takes over for Evans doesn’t like the sound of his own voice so much that he drones on and on stealing away studio time.
Four more minutes. Yes! We may get to escape after all. God knows I could use a break for both my nerves and to start my project, something about feeling the clay around my hands, the wetness, the smoothness to create something takes me to another place, one I desperately need if I’m going to survive Jude.