Total pages in book: 185
Estimated words: 191421 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 957(@200wpm)___ 766(@250wpm)___ 638(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 191421 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 957(@200wpm)___ 766(@250wpm)___ 638(@300wpm)
“I wasn’t,” I whisper softly, without any inflection or force.
“Real smart though, Echo,” he says, ignoring me again. “That you asked that. Real fucking smart. Because you can trust me to never ever hurt you that way, but you can’t trust me with the other thing.”
“What other thing?”
His eyes turn possessive then. So, so possessive as he says, “The pill thing.”
“What?”
“Years, I watched you with him,” he says, his features so raw and sharp. “Years, I watched you be his. Years, Echo. You didn’t think that if I got you, if I got anywhere near those creamy as fuck thighs, I wouldn’t send you back to him with your tight little pink pussy full of my cum, did you?”
A breath gushes out of me then.
My stomach hollows out.
And my pussy pulses even harder.
“You wouldn’t. You…”
“Yeah,” he whispers, his fingers holding me all possessively, like a predator clutching its prey. “I would. I fucking would. I’d stuff you full of my cum and send you back to him, with me dripping down your milky thighs. I’d fucking send you back with my cream pie in your pussy, Echo. I’d even come all over your tight little tummy and your juicy tits, hose down all your good and ripe parts with my cum and then rub it all in, just so you smell like me when you go to your ex-fucking-boyfriend. And if you aren’t on the pill, then…” He shrugs. “That’s the best goodbye gift ever, isn’t it? His girlfriend carrying a little secret in her belly. His best friend’s baby.”
It takes me a few seconds to gather my strength.
To gather my scattered, fuzzy thoughts enough to say, “No, you wouldn’t do that.”
He chuckles again.
But this isn’t dirty. This is mean. This is mocking.
Much like his words. “Wouldn’t I?”
“No, you wouldn’t,” I tell him firmly, looking into his eyes. “You’d never do that. You’re not like that. I know you want me to think that. But you’re not. You’re trying to scare me. You’re trying to stop me from going to Lucas, from telling him about —”
“Well, I already did.”
“What?”
His jaw clenches then.
The bruises pulse on his face. And they pulse so violently that any illusion I had of him appearing fragile because of them dissolves.
“You’re so worried about him forgiving me when he’s ready to forgive you, aren’t you?” he begins, his hands still framing my face but that tenderness and warmth is missing. “Well, he’s ready to forgive you and not me because he knows.”
“Knows what?”
“About my obsession with his girlfriend.”
My mouth parts.
That’s the only reaction I can give him right now.
To the information that feels the most shocking.
That Lucas knows.
“He knows that I want what belongs to him. He knows that I want you and that’s why he doesn’t want you anywhere near me.” Then, “But imagine what would happen if I told him that his girlfriend wants me back.”
“I —”
“I read your diary.”
I thought I knew what it meant to feel afraid. You’d go all tight and rigid.
But I didn’t know that sometimes you go all limp too. I didn’t know that your body could go all weak, as if sinking. And it’s happening to me right now.
My hands fall away from his wrist and the frown between my brows slackens.
“That night. When I was up in your bedroom, I read your diary. I read all the things that you’d written. About that night. About that kiss. About how you still dream about it. How randomly, out of the blue, you taste me. On your tongue.”
I’m barely breathing now.
Barely.
As he continues, “Watermelons, yeah?”
I jerk then.
He makes me.
As if he knew I was near death and so he’s injecting me with life.
He’s injecting me with hate.
“Gotta say though, you’re one fantastic writer, Echo. You were born to write. Too bad your diary is full of your ex-boyfriend’s best friend. Well, ex-best friend. But you get the picture, don’t you?”
My throat is all dried up.
All scratchy and raw.
“You…”
“You could go ahead and tell him who made the first move, if you like. To be a good girl. To fix things. And maybe you will. Maybe everything will be fine. But then I don’t know how you will fix the things that break if I tell him what I know. What I have is much more damaging, isn’t it? He may be able to forgive you for kissing his then-best friend, but I highly doubt he’d be so generous about you… waxing poetic about that kiss in your diary for years.”
“Why are you…” I blink, my head shaking, “Why are you doing this?”
His breath is sharp and his fingers are still cradling my face. “Because you keep forgetting I’m an asshole. You keep forgetting that you hate me. That I make you hatesick. I told you we can’t be friends, remember? Years ago. This is why. Because I’m a selfish motherfucking asshole and just so you don’t forget in the future and annoy the living shit out of me, I’m going to give you an ultimatum too. The kind that you will remember for the rest of your life.”