Total pages in book: 154
Estimated words: 151765 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 759(@200wpm)___ 607(@250wpm)___ 506(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 151765 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 759(@200wpm)___ 607(@250wpm)___ 506(@300wpm)
“What are we doing here?”
He paused at the door to the house, nodding to the punching bag. “What do you think? You’re going to work off some steam.”
I dropped my backpack to the floor and rolled up my sleeves, but that was all I could do to get comfortable. I had a tank under, but I wasn’t stripping down to that. He came out in sweatpants, and I let out a myriad of curses because that wasn’t fair. The guy was ripped all over, and he even had the penis muscles, the V that went down under his sweats.
Plus there was a tattoo of an octopus on his left side. A skull was in the place of its head. The tentacles dipped down so I couldn’t see under his shorts, but it stretched to his other side.
Holy shit, what that must look like with those shorts gone?
I was salivating.
“Put clothes back on.” I pointed at him.
His eyes flashed. “No.”
“Yes.”
He got behind the punching bag and held it against his chest. “You need to warm up?”
My mouth dried. He was serious. “I don’t want to work out.”
“Sweetheart.” He straightened.
I didn’t like the way he said that. I didn’t like how I reacted to it.
“You’re hitting a bag,” he said. “If you want to work out, that’s a whole other ordeal and not something you can handle. Trust me.”
I glowered at him. “You’re a dick.”
“And you being a bitch right now is making me hard, so hit the bag.”
I hit the bag. Then I hit it again and again.
Pretty soon, I couldn’t stop.
Scout held it for me the whole time.
22
RAMSAY
The house was dark when Scout pulled into our driveway.
The boxing thing had been an emotional release for me. The first time he’d offered to take me back home, I shook my head and moved to the smaller punching bag. He watched me for a long time before I heard him go pick up a jump rope.
He worked out. I saw him on his phone, so maybe he told his uncle he’d train at his house. I didn’t know. I never asked. I just moved around his garage. He had weights. Other punching bags. A post sticking up with sticks pointing out at odd angles. There were exercise balls and other things I didn’t know how to use. After an hour, I got my phone and headphones out. I turned on the music, and eventually, as my body got tired and my mind went numb, I settled in the corner. There were a couple of couches, so I curled up and pulled out my homework.
I studied as Scout continued working out.
He only stopped a few times to grab food—or, fuel, as he called it.
My stomach had growled, as I hadn’t eaten anything at lunch, so I grabbed one of his sports drinks from the fridge set up in the garage. I only went into his house to use the bathroom, and that was just inside the door. Each time, I went directly back to the garage. I could’ve snooped. I didn’t think Scout would’ve cared, but I didn’t.
I continued my homework until I was able to read ahead in two of my classes.
When Scout pulled up to my place, I reached for the door and got out. I didn’t say a word. Neither did he. He left, and I went inside, already knowing my mom was working a double tonight. She’d sent me a text on her break, informing me, but I still hated seeing the note she’d left on the counter. It was next to some money for me to order food.
I left the note and cash where they were and headed upstairs. I knew my plans for the night.
I got ready for bed, but grabbed my blankets and pillows and took them all downstairs. I locked the doors and went through the house, double checking that all the windows and the back doors were locked too. Then, with a bottle of wine and a bag of chips in hand, I curled up on the couch. The TV was turned on.
I set my alarm for the morning and watched The Fallen Crest Diaries, popping open the wine and taking a big slurp of it.
I was halfway through episode five, season one, when a loud knock sounded at my back door.
I screamed, launching myself off the couch.
The pounding continued.
“Who is it?!” I yelled.
“It’s Clint!”
I groaned, willing my heartbeat to return to normal as I made my way to the back door.
“And me!”
I stopped right before I got there. That was Alex.
If he was here . . . “And me!” That was Trenton. All three had showed up.
I lifted the curtain so I could see them, and moved around, trying to see who else was with them.
Clint frowned. “What are you doing?”
“Checking to see if you brought my aunt and uncle too.”