Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 127146 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 636(@200wpm)___ 509(@250wpm)___ 424(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127146 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 636(@200wpm)___ 509(@250wpm)___ 424(@300wpm)
He cocks his head and ambles closer, and I can’t help but look at him. Damn. He’s pretty. Not in the rugged, masculine sort of way that Drew is; his features are slightly more delicate, but that’s hard to notice when there’s so much menace in his gaze. The sight of it makes it difficult for me to breathe. “I do have people who do the grocery shopping for me, but what I don’t have are people to check if pretty little rabbits that get caught in a trap get above themselves. Drew isn’t like you. You two aren’t even in the same world, let alone the same tax bracket. Stay away from him.”
I wince at Drew’s name. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t even like him. Maybe you should tell him to leave me alone. God knows I’ve only told him ten million times.”
“Sure, Kitten. That’s what they all say until they start poking holes in condoms to accidentally get pregnant.”
I curl my lip in disgust. “That’s not who I am. I don’t...”
He leans in close now, and I get a cold wintergreen scent that wafts off him. “Good. Stay out of the way, and everyone will be happy.”
When I open my mouth to speak again, he shakes his head oh-so gently and drops a fifty-dollar bill in front of me on the conveyor belt.
“Everyone deserves to eat,” he says, and I gape as he walks past, his hands deep into his pockets. The money is just sitting there. What the hell do I do with it, and why do these rich assholes keep trying to force money on me? Do I look that desperate? Actually, don’t answer that. Another glance at my cart answers that question. Fine. If Mr. Moneybags is paying, then I’m getting more food. It’s up to Drew to explain why he won’t stay away from me.
It’s been a week since I’ve seen him or his creepy friends, so my first thought when he shows up at my table in the library is oh shit, he’s found me again. But of course he did. I’m either at home or in the library. It’s not like I’m trying to hide.
“What do you want?”
“To feel you strangling my cock with that tight pussy, of course.”
His response startles me, and I knock over a paper cup I didn’t realize he’d set there. The hot liquid spreads across my textbook. Goddammit. With a huff, I mop at it with some tissues.
“Has anyone ever told you you’re disgusting?”
He shrugs like it’s no big deal. “Sure, but I’ve been called worse.”
I’m sure you have.
Refusing to get into an argument with him, I change the subject. I don’t want to relive the memory of what happened between us.
"Obviously, you don’t hang out in the library often, nor do you look like you’re studying, and you can’t make me believe you actually came here to do something nice… So what’s up? Why are you here? What do you want from me?"
I’m pretty sure he’s following me or stalking me. Maybe both. It’s not a coincidence that he would show up here, especially knowing this is where he can find me. He wants something, maybe more of what happened in the woods? I hate the way my body lights up at the reminder of the way he made me feel and how savagely he took me. Shaking the memory away, I meet his eyes, and he holds my gaze. A smirk is painted on those criminally full lips like he enjoys my refusal to cower.
After a minute, I swallow hard and give in, looking away. "Just tell me what it is you want."
"Would you believe me if I said all I wanted was to see you and bring you some coffee?”
I stare down at the rapidly wrinkling textbook in front of me. So much for selling this one for the money Mom needs. There are others, though. I can make do. I’m reminded of the check he gave me. I can’t bring myself to cash it. Yet if I'd made it to the cabin...despite...everything...I wouldn't have had any qualms taking that money. Then again, I'd have earned it. Unconventionally, but I'm okay with that. But this way, him just handing me a check, it makes me feel cheap like he bought my virginity or something. I slip the check I've been staring at for hours, contemplating what I’m going to do with it, out from under the stack of notebooks and hold it out to him. Maybe him showing up here is a sign. After the store incident with his little friend, I don’t want to look like a charity case, not any more than I already feel.
"Here. Take it back. I don’t want it.” Yes, I know I need the money, but I also care about my pride. I care about integrity, and I want him to know I can’t simply be bought like an item on the shelf.