Total pages in book: 140
Estimated words: 137433 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 687(@200wpm)___ 550(@250wpm)___ 458(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 137433 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 687(@200wpm)___ 550(@250wpm)___ 458(@300wpm)
But I was wrong. Lev was always watching. There are maybe a thousand pictures of me just from that day.
“You done snooping around?” Lev drawls, eyes hard on the road.
My heart slides back to my chest, and I toss his phone in his lap. “All boring stuff. As expected.”
I don’t know why I’m so awful to him when he is literally the only person worth fighting to stay in this world for.
“I’d rather be boring than be a fuckup.”
“You know, I really hate you.” A rusty laugh escapes my lips.
His jaw flexes. “Doesn’t surprise me. Hate is just a cheap substitute for love.” He floors the accelerator, eager to get home. “And we both know why you’re all drugged-up and numb now, Dove—you’ve always been afraid to feel.”
Lev parks, opens the door, and storms inside without sparing me a glance. I take a deep breath and stare at my house. That wasn’t so bad.
He talked a big game for someone who decided to bicker with me lightly the entire ride home. Then I see the light flicks on in my bedroom on the second floor and realize through the sweet fog of euphoria that we’ve reached the clusterfuck portion of the night.
Because Lev is in my room and I know exactly what he’s doing there.
I zip out of his car and fly up the stairs. By the time I get to my room, it looks like the FBI raided it. Thrice.
Lev ripped apart every piece of furniture looking for drugs. My dresser is upside down, all my books and clothes are scattered on the floor, the sheets are torn, and one of my nightstands is broken.
“Stop, stop, stop!” I plead, trying to grab at his arms when he starts plucking my pillows. Feathers rain down on both of us, painting everything in white. “You’re not gonna find anything, I swear.”
But he keeps ripping linen, flipping drawers upside down, and ripping Polaroid pictures from my walls. He is like he was in the forest the day Rosie died, only about a hundred pounds heavier and ten inches taller now.
When my room is thoroughly destroyed, Lev turns to me, heaving. “Get naked.”
“What?”
“You heard me. If there’re drugs on you, I’m gonna find them.”
“Oh yeah?” I snort. “Are you gonna check my rectum to see if I stashed them there?”
“Fuck yeah. Junkies do stupid shit to avoid getting caught. I have two former druggies at home, remember? You’re not bullshitting your way out of this one, Dove.” He sits on the edge of my mattress-less bed cockily, making himself comfortable. “Play stupid games, win stupid prizes. Start by losing the shirt. Then work your way down from there. You can dance a little if you’re so inclined.”
I stand frozen, giving him a disgusted look.
His eyebrows shoot up. “You need to get in the mood?” He slides a thumb over his phone and puts “Milkshake” by Kelis on. A stripper song. “Here. That should work.”
“Fuck you,” I spit out.
Lev smiles smugly. “Planning on it. One day. When you’re deadass sober, and not a minute before.” He checks the time on his phone. “Ticktock, Bailey. You’re not getting any younger, and I’d really hate to rip the clothes off of you…no, wait. I’d actually enjoy that a lot.”
Raging, I turn around and stalk out of my room, taking the stairs two at a time to escape him. He follows me, his feet pounding on the floor, making the entire house shake.
Adrenaline pumps through my veins, making my heart pound violently hard.
I slide the back doors open. We have a long, narrow pool with round hot tubs on either side. Lev says it’s the shape of a dick with balls and he’s kind of right.
I stop at the edge of the pool and turn to smirk tauntingly at the boy who gave me his favorite GI Joe binoculars so I could spot Halley’s Comet.
“Since seeing me naked is going to be the height of your existence, and I’m actually in a good mood for once, here. Have at it.” I clutch the hem of my shirt and pull it off, tossing it on a sunbed. I’m wearing a pink satin bra.
Tugging at my scrunchie, I let my hair down. Thick waves of gold cascade down to the small of my back. I push my shorts down. Kick off my sneakers, careful to keep the plastic bag with the Vicodin and Xanax inside.
I’m wearing matching pink panties. The satin is so thin, he can see the imprint of my slit. And he’s looking. Oh, he can’t tear his gaze off of me.
“Should I lose the bra and the panties?” I arch an eyebrow, feeling so high, so powerful, so good.
This is me taking control. Driving him mad. Giving him a taste of the dish I’d never prepared for him but wanted to so many times. Me.