Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 113837 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 569(@200wpm)___ 455(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113837 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 569(@200wpm)___ 455(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
He might smoke, drink, and fight. And me? I was sitting here because I wanted to indulge in him. My own personal vice. I plucked the cigarette from his fingers, and before I could place it to my lips, he stole it back
“That doesn’t look right on you. I don’t like it.”
“I don’t care what you don’t like.”
He shifted on the pavement, resting his elbow over his knees as he looked at me. “You’re a shitty liar.”
Maybe I was. I brushed my fingers over his battered cheek and wondered who he had gotten into a fight with, why he hadn’t turned up tonight... “You know, getting drunk alone is kinda tragic.”
“Yeah. Well. Dayton is fucking tragic.”
“It is,” I whispered, a sudden tightness forming in my chest. I felt bad for him. This town was my temporary hell, but for him, it was a permanent home, and that sucked. “What are you doing after graduation?”
“Don’t know. Maybe go to Alabama State.” He paused. "What about you? You going to some rich-kid school?”
“Cornell.”
“New York?”
“Yeah.”
Silence stretched between us, filled only by the soft chirp of crickets and the hum of traffic on the highway in the distance. My entire body thrummed with awareness in his proximity, and I wanted to just reach out and touch him.
The bottom of the bottle clinked against the pavement, then Bellamy’ shifted, placing his warm palm on my leg. “Did you wear that skirt for me?”
The way his fingers played over my skin was like static teasing over me. “What if I did?”
His hand went to the back of my neck, pulling my face close to his. The hint of clove and whiskey washed over me, and the pull of his lips felt like a magnet, one I didn’t even fight. “Then I’d tell you, you look hot,” he said, his fingers knotting in my hair.
I wanted everything this boy had to offer, and that was bad. So bad... “And what if I didn’t?” I whispered.
“Then, I wouldn’t do this.” His lips pressed to mine, his grip on my neck tightening as he shifted, lowering my back on the pavement as he settled himself between my thighs.
“Those poor choices still coming back to haunt you, baby girl?” His palm glided up my thigh, bunching my skirt, then stopped.
I gripped his shirt, the heat of his body almost burning me. I could no longer convince myself that Bellamy was a poor choice. “No.”
He smiled against my mouth before biting me. “Good.” Then his hand sank between my thighs, slipping beneath my panties.
One touch and I was already coming undone. My hands slammed down onto the pavement to steady myself as his fingers worked deeper.
“I’ve never wanted a girl the way I want you.” His lips were at my throat, his free hand gripping my jaw. Everything about the way he touched me was possessive, animalistic, and every part of me craved it. Needed it... “And it pisses me the fuck off.” His teeth sank into my skin on a deep groan, and that in and of itself nearly sent me spiraling over the edge.
A rock song blared from his phone, and he ignored it, pressing his fingers deeper, harder, driving me closer and closer to losing all control. Then it rang again and again.
“Shit…” He pulled his phone from his pocket, his fingers still in me as he placed it to his ear. The noise of a kid wailing echoed into the night, and he yanked away from me.
Bellamy’s brows pulled together. “Okay. I’ll be there in…Shit. Just give me like twenty minutes, Arlo. Okay....” More wailing. “Yeah. I know. I’m leaving now. Twenty minutes, buddy.”
He knocked the liquor bottle over when he stumbled to his feet. “I’ve gotta go get my brother.”
I stood up, tugging down my skirt. This was so not dignified. “Okay.”
Bellamy was already halfway through his yard.
“What are you doing? You’re drunk,” I called after him. “And it’s one in the morning.”
He turned around, continuing to walk and nearly tripping over the sidewalk. “That’s why I’m walking.”
“Really?” I threw out my hands. “Get in my car, you idiot.” I turned and stalked across the street to my car, still in Nora’s drive, Bellamy staggering behind me.
He directed me through another rundown neighborhood to another rundown house, leaving me in the idling car while he jogged toward the front door. When someone answered the door, I wonder why his little brother had called him instead of their parents.
A tiny shadow emerged, trudging down the drive alongside Bellamy.
Bellamy opened the door, ushering Arlo in and buckling him into the backseat while the kid stared at me, red eyes and wrinkled forehead. “Hey, Gas Station Lady.” He crossed his arms over his chest on a huff.
Bellamy closed the door, then climbed back into the front.
“He seems pissed,” I whispered as I reversed away from the shitty looking house.