Текст книги "The Bad Boy Arrangement"

Автор книги: Nora Flite

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– Chapter Seven -

Abell

Nix was silent as we left the florist.

Was she feeling the same distorting bundle of emotions that I was?

Looking down on her, how the winter sun turned her hair into copper, I tried to see into her head. I failed, fucking obviously, but I still tried. Willing myself to become psychic was as likely as her spilling her guts to me.

The incident in that greenhouse had left me stunned. Not the water, not how she'd eaten up the view of me as my shirt soaked through. Nix had listened to my wistful murmur about a damn flower.

She'd listened.

To me.

Only one other person had ever done that.

My jacket was chilly against my bare skin. I'd zipped it up, carrying my damp shirt in a tight ball in the crook of my elbow. Across the street, the mall looked like someone had vomited tinsel and ribbon all over it. Christmas is in the air, I mused.

She was looking at her feet, at the clouds, at anything except me. The car was gone; she noticed, digging out her phone to call the driver back.

“Wait,” I said, waving my hand. Nix froze in mid-dial. “Don't call yet.”

“Why not? We're done out here.”

Flipping my wet shirt at her, she caught it just before it hit the ground. “Not quite, Sugar. You owe me a new, preferably dry, shirt.”

Gripping the soggy fabric, her eyebrows crawled as high as they could. I was waiting for her to argue, I had a whole spiel ready to counter her.

Nix tucked her hair behind her ear, marching over the crosswalk towards the mall. “Nothing too expensive, okay?”

She didn't even try and disagree with me. My sneakers skidded over the pavement behind her. “Are you feeling alright?”

Dodging the seasonal crowd, she held the mall door open for me. “Of course. Why?”

“Well. You're not being difficult, for a change.”

Her lashes fluttered rapidly. “Are you trying to politely call me a bitch?”

Laughing in my throat, I walked ahead of her through the busy mall. “Never say I don't have tact.”

Her heels clicked violently across the hard marble. Under her breath, she muttered, “It's not me being weird, it's you.”

“What was that?” I asked.

“Nothing.” Pulling up short, she grabbed my elbow and tugged me into a store. The sensation of her fingers gripping me lifted a wave of heat through my center. “In here, they have good clothing.”

It was a brightly lit shop, the tall front windows painted with giant gold and black crowns. Cabo Street, I thought, recognizing the store. Nix had good taste, though that didn't shock me.

From the start, she'd made a point of dressing in fine clothing. She was almost obsessed with how she looked, to the neurotic point of fussing over her hair when we'd been fucking.

Even her underwear is classy, I thought, remembering the shiny lavender lingerie.

“Abell, look at this one.” She was fingering the hem of a dark red shirt. As I got closer, she spread it out, showing me the golden design along the arms. “Nice, right?”

Brushing my hand over the material, I nodded. “Soft. I like soft things against my skin.”

She bit the edge of her mouth, her laugh nervous. “Of course you do. Want to try it on?”

“You're the boss.” Unzipping my jacket, I let it fall to the floor. The shop was full of people, and all of them—man and woman alike—stopped to stare at me and my naked chest. I wasn't watching them, though.

I was watching Nix.

Her eyes flew wide, the perfectly addicting pinkness of her blush crawling up her neck. I loved watching that happen. “Abell!” she hissed, raising her arms as if she could hide me from everyone. “Why do you insist on getting naked all the time? Stop!”

Elongating my body, making the muscles in my back ripple, I put on a confused face. “Stop? But everyone seems to be enjoying the view.”

She scanned the crowd, fidgeting when she noticed the girls snapping photos of me. There were some frowns, but mostly, the women were eating me up. It was only Nix that was getting upset.

Holding the red shirt against me like a curtain, she grit her teeth. “Why are you doing this?”

Pointedly, I met her stare. I could see the emotion swirling in her green eyes, and I hoped she could feel even a hint of mine. Why am I doing this? It was a good question, and my answer came out more calmly than it should have. “To make you jealous,” I whispered.

Nix transformed into a statue. Her hands were talons, so tight they might never let go of that shirt. “What?” she asked, breathing the single word out.

“It's true.” Gently, I took the shirt from her, sliding my arms through the sleeves. Around us, people made noises of disappointment. The show was over; in minutes the shoppers dispersed, leaving Nix and I alone among the racks.

Her hands still hovered in the air, fingers bent. I had the terrible suspicion that she was getting ready to claw my eyes out. Instead, she let her arms drift to her hips limply. “Why would you mess with me like that?” she asked.

Slipping into my jacket, I zipped the front. “I'm not. Isn't it obvious that I like you?”

“You don't like me,” she laughed, acid coating her tongue. “You just want to use me. I'm another pair of walking tits to you, only these tits are dragging access to your cash behind them like a ball and chain. That's what you want from me.”

I steadied myself. Her words were harsh, but she wasn't entirely wrong. “Nix—”

“Stop.” There was a rawness in her voice. Were her eyes wet? She turned away, her fire and ice armor returning. “Don't play with me. I don't have time for it.”

Reaching out, I clasped her shoulder. She started to wrench away, but I held her firm. “Listen to me,” I said. “Whether you're right or not, what I said wasn't a lie. Making you jealous, making you ache for me and only me... I love it. I can't get enough of you.”

She went stiff, twisting to gawk up at me. Her pupils were glossy, darker than an undiscovered galaxy. She was seeing me, actually seeing me. If this moment could last, I'd stand among those racks of pressed jeans and soft shirts forever.

But it couldn't.

My life didn't mix well with romance.

Nix backed away, hesitating. Whatever she'd been about to say, she stopped herself. “The shirt,” she mumbled. “Let's go take care of that.”

Plucking at the front of the material, I smiled cynically. “Yeah. I guess that's what's important here.”

There was hurt in her eyes, I fucking saw it. But I couldn't call her out, I couldn't do anything. Nix considered me a player, and she hated everything that word stood for. Why was I letting myself get all torn up over her?

What the hell was I doing?

Trying to keep my lifestyle. I need her to want me for that to happen.

No. That wasn't true anymore. She'd agreed to marry me, and all I had to do was promise I wouldn't try and sleep with her.

That would be easy, I had plenty of other people who'd indulge me.

Why was I wasting air getting so flustered over this woman?

Nix walked beside me, her wallet tucking into her purse as we exited the store. The chaotic noise of the busy mall slammed into me. The air smelled like cinnamon and hot chocolate.

Through the chorus of sounds, I heard Nix's stomach rumble.

Peeking down at her, I scanned the mall. “Hey,” I said, pointing. “I'm starving, let's get some ice cream.”

She blinked, but her lips turned up into a smile. “Really? Ice cream in winter?”

“It's hot enough in here.”

The mood between us lightened. Nix nodded, leading the way. “That actually sounds really good.”

The line was short; people probably had the same thought Nix had about ice cream and the time of year. “I'll take a lemon cone,” I said, pulling out my wallet. “And give her whatever she wants.”

Her eyes sparkled. “Vanilla. In a cup, please.”

The clerk rang us up, handing the treats over. “That'll be five dollars.”

“Don't say I never spoiled you,” I chuckled at Nix.

The pearly shine of her teeth went ever brighter under the Christmas lights. “Oho, big spender.”

Carrying our snacks, I led her up the escalator until we found a far corner of the mall. The ceiling arched high above, ornaments dangling on gold chains and twinkling with their reds and silvers.

Sitting on the bench, I licked my ice cream. It was a burst of tartness on my tongue. “Man, that's good.”

“It's pretty amazing,” she sighed. “I love desserts. My mother hates that I love them, which makes me like them more.” Her smile was contagious. “Hey, I have something I wanted to ask you.”

“Shoot.” I nibbled the edge of the waffle cone.

“Your dad is having that Christmas party this weekend. Right?”

My back popped as I sat taller. “Wait, were you invited to that catastrophe?”

“Apparently. Is it going to be that terrible?”

Not once had I attended my father's company parties. But if Nix was going... “That depends. Will you be wearing something holiday themed, like a cocktail dress made of mistletoe?”

Her laugh was a shot of espresso into my nervous system. “If that's what it takes to salvage the party, I'll consider it. Are you... you know, going to be there?” Ducking her head, she stared intently into her ice cream.

“I might swing by.” Winking, I turned the cone in my hand. “Is that what you wanted to ask me? If I was going? Baby, you don't need to be so subtle, come right out and say you wanted me by your side.”

Chewing her bottom lip, she shifted on the bench. “Actually, I was going to ask if my brother could come.”

A drop of melted lemon hit my knee. “You have a brother?”

“Half-brother, but yeah. Gram works at Halloway Inc. You didn't meet him yet?”

My shrug was quick. “Huh. Older or younger than you?”

“Why does that matter?”

I reached over, dipping my finger into her ice cream, then licking it off. “I want to know if he's a puppy-dog younger brother, or the older type that will try to kick my ass when he hears that I hooked up with his sweet sister.”

She hit me in the shoulder. “That's none of his business, don't you dare tell him. He wouldn't hurt a fly, anyway.”

Grinning, I wiped my hand on my napkin. “What, you're saying he never chased off any guys when you were younger?”

“No.” She hesitated, turning the yellow spoon in her fingers. “He didn't have the chance. I didn't meet him until I was eighteen.”

“What?”

Staring into her cup, she stirred the vanilla slowly. Her voice was far away. “It was a huge shock when he showed up. Turns out Dad hadn't been so faithful. My mother went nuts. Attacked him, screamed, the whole works.”

Disgust bit deep into my heart. A father who betrayed his family? Yeah. I knew that story.

Nix was shrinking into the bench, knees tucking to her chest. She looked like she was trying to disappear. Reaching out, I cupped her knee—she twitched.

“It's alright,” I said gently.

Her face smoothed, as if I'd comforted her. “I don't know why I'm telling you this.”

“You don't have to.”

“I know. I just... I guess it feels good to share it, finally.” Switching her crossed ankles, she smiled at me sadly. “My mother hates Gram. Right from the start, it was like she wanted to wish him out of existence.”

“Why does he work at your company, if she hates him so much?”

“That was Dad's decision. I guess he felt guilty for hiding Gram away, ignoring him. That doesn't stop him from treating Gram like he's a living scarlet letter, though, when he's the one who fucked up.”

“That's terrible,” I said softly.

She watched me, as if trying to believe my sympathy. “Now we get to pretend to be one big, happy family. Mom despises Dad for cheating on her, but she refuses to divorce and let the world see their sham marriage for what it is. He can't leave her because he's weak. Gram just tries to stay invisible.”

“And you?”

Her eyebrows lowered. “Me? I do what they want. I always have. Taking care of what they ask me to... it's all I'm good for. Even now.”

The memory of her talking in her sleep stabbed me. That night, she'd mumbled something similar.

A life of doing what people want you to do. That was the life I'd run from. Nix had stayed.

Both of us were fucked up.

Which path is better? Running, or being a martyr?

Standing, she headed towards a trashcan. “This is all melted, I'll be right back.” The stiffness in her shoulders was obvious, even from behind.

She put up with all of that? Her and I had much more in common than I ever realized.

“Abram,” I said when she sat beside me again.

“What?”

“My name. My father still calls me it, even though I hate it, because that's the kind of man he is. He wanted me to become a grand, powerful leader of his company. But that's not me. It never could be.” My smile was cold as a corpse. “He was never good at hiding his disappointment.”

Nix furrowed her brow, and I had to wonder what was going on behind her lovely eyes. “Is that why you... do what you do?”

I didn't want her looking at me like that. I wasn't some victim, I didn't need to be psychoanalyzed.

Smiling as wide as I could, I pushed myself to my feet. “Who knows! I just wanted you to see we share the fun tradition of nick-names. Come on, let's get out of here.”

Tradition. Hah. Calling myself Abell had been about sticking it to my father, claiming something for myself. Nothing I'd done growing up had been good enough for him.

But Nix was wrong.

The final straw that led me into debauchery had been something else entirely.

That day in the hospital was a brutal memory. I never wanted to think about it again, and the only way to run from the moment where I'd finally discovered the cruelty of the world, was to bury myself in throbbing flesh and forgettable faces. I didn't want clarity, I wanted to drink and fuck.

I wanted to not care.

My talent is not giving a shit.

Except Nix had proven that wrong about me.

She was proving everything wrong about me.

As we exited the mall together, I felt her staring. I didn't dare look down at her.

I was too afraid of the pity in her eyes.

– Chapter Eight -

Nix

“Excuse me? Miss Halloway?”

I knew the man was talking to me, but I was busy gawking at the house—the mansion—that towered ahead.

White lights were draped around pillars, the entrance way, the delicately trimmed bushes... everything. It was a gorgeous home.

Who needs a place this big?

A car horn blared behind me, making me jump. “Ma'am?” the valet coughed. “People are waiting to pull up, you need to get out of the car.”

Focusing, I put my gloved hand in his, letting him help me out of the backseat. Everything smelled fresh, juniper tickling my nose. Here we are. I'd almost backed out, but in the end, my temptation had been too strong.

I wanted to see Abell again.

He'd been acting so strange when we'd left the mall. He wouldn't look at me, and when he talked, it was disconnected. He's always like that, I'd tried to tell myself. Except I knew that wasn't right.

Abell had been peeling away his falseness bit by bit around me. So why, after talking about my family, had he thrown his plastic wall back up?

Adjusting the heavy, double-buttoned coat I'd worn to avoid winter's bite, I walked unsteadily through the front door. Thick carpets stretched along the floor, the kind meant for movie stars.

The house reeked of money.

Relax. So what if the Birch's are rich, your family is wealthy, too! Don't be intimidated!

Except we didn't have this kind of wealth. We never had. This was a whole other tier, another world.

The buzz of conversation rolled over me as I entered. Freezing in the foyer, I gazed up at the pale staircase draped in green garland, a balcony with red ribbons twisting along one side. Tables covered in food sat against each wall of the room, an ice sculpture of a deer perched on one of them.

There was a crowd milling around, all of them dressed to impress. Just as I'd figured, every face belonged to a stranger. I was in the middle of a fancy Christmas party, and I knew no one.

Wonderful.

A woman in a black dress approached me with a tray of glasses. “Drinks?”

“Yes,” I said gratefully, taking the champagne flute and sipping. “I think I'll need this.”

Where's Abell? Did he not come?

What about Gram?

The party was in full swing. If making a late entry was anyone's plan, they were pushing it. Checking my phone, I felt my stomach slip lower—no missed calls. Not even a text.

Abell had exchanged numbers with me before we parted the other day. Since then, the only thing he'd texted me was an invitation to visit him if I got lonely.

I'd ignored it at the time, I knew what a booty call was.

Now, I was tempted to respond, just for an excuse to make contact.

The hairs on my neck stood tall. Suddenly, I didn't feel... alone. Turning, I caught a pair of blue eyes watching me.

They didn't belong to Abell.

Dressed in a black suit, his silvery hair shining, Corin Birch came my way with a smile. The sight of him made my mouth taste like a leaking battery. Ah, here we go.

“Miss Halloway,” he chuckled, holding out a hand. The gold watch on his wrist glinted. “May I take your coat?”

You can take my foot up your ass. Smiling politely, I shrugged out of the long coat, passing it to him. The dress I'd chosen for the evening wasn't made of mistletoe, but it was green like the plant.

Knit from soft wool, it hugged my body, showing off the curves my mother hated, while touching my knees to keep it classy.

I'd thrown my hair up in a braid that was wrapped high on my neck, the air brushing my bare collar bone. Dressing to fit the situation was something my parents had ingrained in me.

Corin looked me over slowly. The appreciation in his eyes had my dinner tickling the back of my throat. “You look lovely. Your mother and you are so similar.”

Laughing, I sipped my champagne. “Don't let her hear you say that, she'll be furious.”

“I've seen her angry side enough times to not be afraid of it.”

Curiosity chimed in my skull, louder than a grandfather clock. “She never told me that she knew you. I mean, knew you knew you, enough to get a personal loan... and to set up this whole marriage contract.” I spit the last sentence out, wishing I could crush it under my heel.

He must have sensed my growing disgust; I wasn't really hiding it. “Even after our meeting together, she's still told you nothing.”

“Not a thing. Why don't you enlighten me?”

The corners of his eyes crinkled up. “I think not. Here's a question for you, how are you and my son getting along?”

I went to take a big mouthful of my drink, but it was already empty. Had I chugged it that fast? Corin is making me nervous, I can't help it. “Abell is... something else.”

“Do you hate him?”

My eyebrows flew high at the abrupt turn this conversation had taken. “Hate him?”

Corin stroked his palm over my coat in his arms. “You seemed appropriately offended when you learned your fate. I guess his reputation precedes him. I'm sorry about these circumstances, Miss Halloway.”

I couldn't control the sarcasm in my tiny smile. “Are you? You could always call the wedding off, burn the contract.”

“No,” he said, his voice rich with a darkness I didn't understand. “I'm afraid if you want Halloway Inc, you're stuck with my wreck of a son. You'll be married to a man who cares about nothing but wasting the money we both earn on whores and alcohol.”

Blown away by his insult, I squeezed the stem of my glass. Abell had told me he didn't get along with his father, but for the man to callously tell me that his own son was a mess, it was shocking.

Everything Corin is saying about him is stuff I've thought.

Even with that fact, it bothered me that he could speak so poorly about his own son.

So no one around us would hear, I whispered, “Were you always such an asshole to him?”

My polite facade had fully melted away.

Corin paused, his fingers curling around one of my coat's buttons. I feared he was getting ready to tear it off. “Do you approve of his history, his habits, Miss Halloway?”

Rocking side to side, I frowned. “No, of course not.”

“Could you ever see yourself loving a man who chooses his obscene, selfish desires over your own happiness?”

The room was pleasantly warm, and still, a cold chill swam through my blood. “I... no, never.”

Was I crazy, or did Corin smile like he was actually happy? “I'll go put your coat in the check-in area, it'll be waiting for you when you leave. Enjoy yourself tonight, Miss Halloway.”

And that was it, our weird as hell conversation was over.

Staring after Corin, I forgot my drink was empty and took a sip of air. Unsatisfied, even irritated, I looked around for one of the woman with trays. What the hell was that all about? Corin was disturbing me with how confusing he was being.

He knew my mother... but wouldn't say how.

He slandered his son in front of me, all while mocking how I couldn't escape the contract.

If the man was auditioning for the part of a super villain, he was one nuke away from getting it.

Spotting a girl with more drinks, I started to move through the crowd. I didn't get far before I locked my knees, a gap in the busy room revealing a couple standing by the wall.

It was my mother.

And she was with Abell.

Ducking to the side, I willed myself to act normal—to not be spotted. Why are they talking? Were they just making conversation?

Peering at them, I noted how sharp Abell looked in his rich, plum colored vest over a white button-down. The contrast helped define the width of his shoulders. He'd peeled the sleeves to his elbow, not shy in exposing his elaborate tattoos.

The combination of class and casual reminded me of a rock star. In a way, I guess he was one—or pretty close.

A rich, rock star player, I mused, stringing together all of his qualities. Recalling what his dad had said about him, my guts knotted tight.

I didn't know how to feel. Abell was a player, but his dad was a monster for pointing it out. For calling him a fuck up.

The things Abell had told me when we'd sat and eaten ice cream together on our surreal shopping trip, they became clearer. I understood why he'd run away from the pressure his dad apparently put on him.

After all, I thought, squinting at my mother, I've experienced the same thing.

Abruptly, he leaned in, listening to something she was saying. His smile, even yards away, turned my heart into a jet engine.

He looked so good when he did that, like he had a secret he wanted to share, and he'd tell you... for a price.

Abell turned away from her, weaving through the crowd—right at me.

Shivering, I snatched a full glass off of a passing tray. He hadn't spotted me yet. However, before I could dart away and get my bearings, his sapphire stare locked on me.

That wicked grin was as good as a bear trap.

“Nix,” he said, stopping inches away. “I thought we'd agreed you'd be wearing mistletoe.”

I waved down at my dress. “Amazingly, I couldn't find any, so I had to use this as a substitute.”

Clicking his tongue, he tapped his breast pocket, pointing out the sprig of mistletoe he'd stuck there. “It's your lucky night, I have some right here. Let's get you into the back, see how it looks.”

Smiling helplessly, I swirled my glass. “One sprig isn't enough to make me decent.”

“Exactly,” he whispered, bending closer. His breath tickled my throat. “That's the whole point.”

The flutters in my belly turned into hot waves of pressure. Abell had taken away any comeback I could have tried. Looking away, I sipped the champagne. “What were you and my mother talking about?”

“She offered me a handjob for fifty dollars. I turned her down.”

Spitting my drink out, I caused people to turn and stare at me. Cupping my mouth, I coughed hoarsely.

Laughing, Abell grabbed a napkin from his pocket, offering it to me. “Guess you liked that one.”

Wiping my face, I blushed wildly. “She'll kill you if she learns you said that.”

Inside, I was still giggling.

“You'll have to protect me from her, then.” He winked, then grabbed my drink from me, finishing it off. “Want a tour of this place?”

Pulling my lower lip in, I ignored how he'd stolen my champagne—my liquid courage. “Sure. That'd be better than trying to make conversation with strangers. Who are they all? Friends of your dad?”

“Friends?” Abell made a wide gesture with one arm. “People with money, connections, power. The kind of mercenary scum my dad loves associating with.” His eyes flared, but he was quick to smile at me. “Come on. I haven't been back here in eight years, I'll try not to get us lost.”

“Eight years?” The heels of my ankle boots scuffed over the polished floor as I followed after him. “Why so long?”

“Have you met my father?” Chuckling, he held open a door for me. I stepped through into a quiet, carpeted hallway. “I stopped living under his rule when I was sixteen.”

“That's so young! Where did you go? How could you even make it on your own?”

Closing the door, he strolled down the dimly let hall, his voice softening. “The truth isn't that impressive. My dad never denied me access to his money. I've had a credit card in my name this whole time.”

I offered him a slanted grin. “That's not exactly the bold, 'going your own way' plan I'd expect from you.”

“You think I'm bold?”

Heat spread over my cheeks. “It's a word that suits you.”

Abell turned the corner, a circular room stuffed with books opened before us.

“Wow!” I gasped. “There's so many!” In the center of the ceiling, a glass window let in the midnight haze of the sky. Gazing up at it, I noticed a graceful staircase that led to a polished door. “What's in there?”

“Nothing,” he said, rounding on me. “It's an old closet.”

Weird place for a closet. Spinning slowly on my toes, I went back to studying the shelves. “It's beautiful in here.”

“Beautiful is a word that should be reserved for... better things.” His eyes sucked up the low lights, blue centers shifting with shadows.

I hadn't realized there was a bookcase behind me, not until he stepped forward, causing me to retreat into it. When my spine tapped the thick novels, I went stiff. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

He whispered, “You know why.”

Licking my lower lip, I glanced away. “Abell, you agreed. No sleeping with me.”

“Now who's bold? You think I'm trying to fuck you right now? Is that where your mind is, Nix?”

I sucked in air, lifting my chin high to try and stare him down. “I know what you want, Abell Birch. You can't fool me, and you aren't getting it.”

“Tell me what I want.” Lingering there, he casually slid his thumb over my shoulder-strap. “Say it out loud, baby girl. You might as well. You're already thinking about it.”

The memory of his warm lips haunted me. “I'm not,” I lied. “You're just... it's obvious. It's what you want from every girl.”

He went quiet, watching me without blinking. Abell stood perfectly still, only the occasional puff of air through his nose told me he was alive. There was a severity in his pupils, something burning up from deep inside.

What was he thinking about?

Lowering closer, his eyelashes twitched. “Maybe,” he hissed softly, “Maybe what I want from you is different. Did you ever consider that?”

I was so close to asking him what he meant. It was right there on my tongue. My pulse stampeded until my heart became a blur of sensation, I imagined it was a hummingbird trapped in my chest. “Whatever it is, it doesn't matter. I don't... want you. Not like this.”

Abell chuckled, pressing his forehead against mine. “Then why are you breathing so heavily?” His scent flooded me, my vision starting to sway.

He leaned into me, his erection digging into my thigh. Grinding against the front of my dress, he took a mere second to find where my pussy was. Was that his damn super power?

“Ah!” I cried, turning away so my cheek touched the books. “W—wait, we can't... you know we can't...”

Ignoring me, he slid himself up and down with deliberate movements. His cock rubbed at me through the fabric, insistent on driving me wild. “I can get you off like this.” He pressed harder, faster. “I can make you cum without fucking you.”

“Nix?” Gram shouted, echoing in the hall outside. “Are you down here?”

His voice snapped me back to the present. I didn't want anyone to catch me with Abell in such a revealing position, but my brother?

Grabbing Abell's wrists, I pushed him away from me. He gave me an inch of space, staring at me with lust glazing his eyes. “Remember our agreement,” I said. I darted a look at the hall. “I'm not doing this, we have to stop!”

There was a heavy beat, a long second, that passed between us. Was he going to listen to me? Or keep pushing, sensing I was about to break... that I had broken?

“Fuck!” he growled, wrenching away. His fists knotted at his sides, tendons flexing. Running a hand through his hair, he forced out a tight laugh. “Guess he saved you after all, huh?”

My juices were running down my inner thigh. I prayed nothing would show through my dress. “I saved me,” I panted, struggling to calm down. “I'm not sleeping with you again, get it?”

He eyed me hungrily. “I can feel you wearing down, babe. You won't be able to hold back much longer.”

A full body shudder, crafted from pure pleasure, shook me. What if he's right? The concept was exhilarating and terrifying all at once. No, I can't... that can't happen. I was smart enough to know that getting closer to Abell was a bad idea. But every second we spent together, I wanted... more.

So much more.

His father's words crept into my head, itching like spiders. Could you ever see yourself loving a man who chooses his obscene, selfish desires over your own happiness?

My answer had come quick:

Never.

I wasn't so sure any longer.

“Nix!” Gram shouted.

With one more shaky breath, I shoved past Abell. “We need to hide, before he finds us together like this.”

“What?” Abell laughed. “I thought you said he wouldn't beat me up.”

“He won't!” But he thinks Abell is scum, because I told him he was. I can't handle the way he'll look at me when he finds us alone! It was obvious what we were doing!

I'd have to beat myself up later for letting Abell get so close to me, when I'd meant to keep us as far apart as I could.

In a panic, I spun in place, searching for some escape. Gram was in the hall, and this room had no where to go.

We were trapped.

No. There's one place. My eyes snapped to the staircase. Not waiting for Abell, I threw myself up the steps towards the door above. The closet he mentioned!

“Wait!” Chasing after me, Abell's voice cracked. “Don't go in there!”