Total pages in book: 122
Estimated words: 116372 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 582(@200wpm)___ 465(@250wpm)___ 388(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116372 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 582(@200wpm)___ 465(@250wpm)___ 388(@300wpm)
Her tits bounce against my back as I jog up the stairs, past Freshman Jerk-off, the desperate bunnies, and BJ, whose brow is raised like he’s in on a secret.
“BJ!” Lavender shrieks, extending her hand, but he’s way too far away to reach.
He grins, shakes his head, and raises his hands in surrender. “Sorry, Lav, I can’t help you now.”
She grabs the edge of the doorframe as we pass through the French doors. I have to give it to her; she puts up a decent fight—not like when she was a scared little kid.
“Down!” she says, loud and squeaky and pissed.
I turn, not to acknowledge her, but to pry her fingers free. When I hit the first step on the way to the second floor, she slaps my ass, hard. And then she does it several more times, so I do it back.
She shrieks, obviously not expecting my retaliation.
“You might want to think twice before you do that again,” I warn.
“You’re an asshole, Kodiak!”
“You’re just figuring that out now?” My skin prickles as I pass the second floor bedrooms and head for the attic, where we keep Princess Lavender.
The sharp sting of her teeth sinking into my side makes me almost miss a step. My grip on her thigh tightens further, and I turn my head, biting the soft, hot flesh next to my ear. She tastes like things I shouldn’t want.
“Ow!” she screams.
I release her skin from my teeth, barely resisting the urge to suck and leave a mark that will last. She kicks her door open for me, and I almost groan as I’m submerged in everything Lavender—posters on the walls, sparkling sewing needles, and the smells. There’s fresh fabric, lavender candles to calm, and peppermint oil to stimulate for studying. The smell of her shampoo also hangs heavy in the air.
I’ve been in here a few times, even though I shouldn’t—mostly as an experiment to see if I could handle it. I can’t. My knees almost buckle as I breathe in the familiar scents, so much stronger up here. All around her room are pieces of random art and photographs of her with her family and friends.
There is nothing of me. Not one picture. Not a single memory.
I made it this way. I did this.
Because I didn’t want to smother her. Because I didn’t want her to rely on me. Because relying on her was dangerous for both of us. Because I knew the lines were always going to be blurry, and my ability to separate her from the obsession might become impossible. I could never let go of the fact that I’d let her down, even as I tried to help, and my mistakes had altered her, and us, irrevocably.
I cross over to the bed and drop her on it. Her boobs bounce, along with the rest of her. I’m going to burn this bikini. Light it on fire and watch it go up in flames.
She scrambles to her knees, face red and beaded with sweat, eyes blazing. “What the hell is wrong with you?” She rubs her ass and looks over her shoulder, probably checking for marks.
“What’s wrong with me? What the hell is wrong with you coming down there dressed like this?” I fling a hand out toward her, eyes raking over all that bare flesh. That Clarke was eyeing like his next meal. That Freshman Jerk-off was going to try to get a piece of.
Her eyes flare, and her lip curls in a sneer. “Are you kidding me? You were butt-ass naked in front of my entire goddamn art class for three hours, and you’re coming at me with this load of crap?”
“It’s not the same fucking thing at all!” I shout back.
“You’re right. It’s not. I’m actually wearing clothes, and you were wearing nothing. And for what purpose, other than to remind me, yet again, that I’m inconsequential to you?” She motions to her chest. “Every single girl down there is dressed exactly the same. I was trying to fit in.”
Not even remotely true, but she’s spitting mad, and so am I.
My body is reacting in ways it really has no business doing right now, and all it does is make me angrier. “Is that what you want, Lavender? To be a bunny like the rest of the vapid lemmings down there? Gonna make your rounds through the team, minus the guys you’re related to? Then maybe you can start on the football team when you’re done.”
“And so what if I want to?” She props her fist on a curvy hip. “Who are you to dictate what I do and with who? You sure as hell enjoy the perks of all these parties. Why shouldn’t I?”
I don’t know what kind of rumors she’s heard, or what she thinks she knows about me, but I’m doubtful it’s accurate. I’m not a saint, but I’m not like Maverick or BJ. Regardless, the mere thought of her hooking up with one of my teammates, let alone more than one of them, makes my brain short out, and I become the worst, most heinous version of myself.