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)
Yanks it back, actually, with his hand in my hair.
Actually his hand is in my braid. It’s wrapped around my braid.
So tightly that my neck is all craned up and stretched and even though I’ve never been in a position like this, where I’m so thoroughly taken over and dominated, I don’t feel scared.
Nothing about his angry eyes or his rough hands is scary to me.
It’s all thrilling. And exhilarating and euphoric.
“Your boyfriend know that you’re here?” he rumbles, his tone biting. “Being my friend.”
I swallow and he watches the play of the delicate muscles in my throat like some kind of a predator. “He —”
“Because I don’t think he’s gonna like it very much. You,” his fingers tug on my hair, “with me.”
I flex my thighs around his slim hips and fist his hair in response. “Ex-boyfriend.” His brows snap together and I explain, “You said boyfriend. He’s not. He’s still my ex.”
His frown thickens even more before he mutters, “Jesus. He didn’t call, did he?”
“He did. The very next night.”
“He apologize?”
I nod, or try to.
But his grip in my hair stops me, thrills me anew.
“Yes.” Then, “You asked him to, didn’t you?”
“I shouldn’t have had to.”
And this is the guy I’m supposed to cut ties with.
Insanity.
If Lucas thinks I’m giving Reign up, he’s fucking insane.
“So then,” he continues, studying my features, “why the fuck is he still your ex?”
“Because I choose you.”
He blanches.
He literally pales at my words and his hold on my hair loosens. “What?”
“The night he called,” I say, keeping a tight hold of him still. “He said that… he’d forgive me. And that he’d take me back, but I have to… I have to cut ties with you.” I bring my fingers to his bruised and bloody face then and grasp it gently. “But I’m not going to. I’m not going to cut ties with you. I choose you, okay? I’m not sure why Lucas is doing this. Why he’s ready to forgive me but not you. But I’m going to fix it.”
“No,” he clips.
“I knew you’d say that. I knew it. But I’m not backing down,” I tell him. “I won’t back down. You’re my friend and I’m not giving up on you. I won’t. Plus I’ve just realized something.”
“What?”
“That we’re even.” When he frowns in confusion, I say, “I know you think you deserve all the bad things. But I want you to think about something. I want you to think about the fact that we’re even, you and me.”
“Even.”
“Yes. You think you provoked me. Into doing what I did that night. Years of torment and then that phone call which made me sneak in and vandalize your room. Fine. So let’s say you did provoke me, but it was still me who did that. If you don’t want to put the blame on me then that’s okay. But it makes us even. You being a giant asshole to me for years and me destroying your childhood bedroom. There. Even.”
Exactly.
We’re even. We’re both culpable.
And I’m done letting him count days and months and years of regret.
“That’s fucking ridiculous.”
“It’s fucking genius and you know that. Plus,” I raise my eyebrows, “you saved me from going to jail.”
“I —”
“And you can say different till the end of time but I won’t believe it. I will still write you thank you notes. I will still create limericks for you. And serenade you with a boombox about how grateful I am.” When it looks like he’s going to say something else, I jump in quickly. “And as for the other thing, about Lucas not forgiving you, I have the solution for that as well.”
“What fucking solution?”
His words are all growled now. “I’m going to tell him.”
“Tell him what?”
“That it was me. That I was the one who kissed you first.”
I did.
I remember it vividly. I remember it as if in slow motion.
The very moment I leaned forward and put my mouth on him. And kissed him.
I also remember him going still.
As if in shock.
While I was the one moving my lips over his, tasting his plush mouth like I’d never get enough.
And I kept going until he broke.
Until he started to kiss me back, and then there was no stopping me and him.
Not until everything blew apart.
So yeah, I was the one.
Who did it. Who started it.
And that’s why I always thought — especially after that phone call and how he refused to help me — that he must’ve told Lucas everything. That he must’ve put the blame on me because it did belong to me, and preserved his friendship.
But he didn’t.
He kept my secret.
It reminds me of the first time we’d met. When I’d lied to him and he protected me by keeping my secret.
He’s somehow always protected me, hasn’t he?
So no, I’m not giving him up.