Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 88215 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88215 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
A part of me would like nothing more than to let him drag me upstairs so he can have his wicked way with me.
A much bigger part of me just can’t go there.
I’m a damn tease. I know it. Duke has got to know it, too. But he keeps coming back, and the truth is that’s what I want. Him to come back. Company. Human contact.
My friendship with him was already breaking one of my rules. Sex would be obliterating it and I’m not willing to take it that far. Not yet, anyway. Not while there’s so much on the line.
I pull back. “I…I can’t. My dad,” I whisper, dragging my teeth along the skin of his neck— just below his ear— rejecting him while promising him the possibilities the future might hold.
“He never comes out of the basement,” Duke reminds me, peppering kisses along my neck, trying to convince me with his lips. He moves to my clavicle, adding light biting and licking to the mix. I feel my muscles tensing. My desire building. My determination to keep this relationship PG-13 crumbles as he sucks my bottom lip into his mouth and traces it with his skilled tongue.
I must admit that the boy is gooooood. There’s a reason why he has a harem. A well-deserved one at that.
“Let me make you come,” Duke whispers, squeezing the tops of my thighs sending a jolt of happy pleasure between my legs.
I’m desperate. I’m needy. I’m high. I’m lonely.
So very fucking lonely.
I don’t want to be. I just want to feel…something else. Something at all. Something that doesn’t come with worry or hurt or panic.
“Okay,” I hear myself say.
Duke makes a sound low in his throat. A little bit growl. A little bit groan. He snakes his hand up my shorts. The heat from his fingers alone is driving me to the edge. I’ve never let him touch me there before. I’ve never let ANYONE touch me there before. I’m both excited and nervous and totally reckless, wrapping my legs around his waist, urging him closer.
The tips of Duke’s fingers brush across my throbbing folds and achingly neglected flesh just as a loud crash echoes through the room.
“Where did that come from?” Duke whispers.
The basement.
It came from the basement.
Chapter Three
“Shit! Your dad!” Duke leaps away from me as if he’s been stung by a bee.
I’m off the counter, ushering him to the door, while white hot fear burns inside my chest.
“Sorry, maybe some other time. I’m gonna go check on my dad.”
“I…I guess I’ll see you tomorrow at school,” Duke says with obvious disappointment in his voice.
“Yeah. Tomorrow. School.” I mumble, unbolting and unlatching the series of locks.
I get the door open in record time. Duke steps out onto the concrete porch, tapping away at his phone. I’m sure he’s sending a text to the next—more willing—girl on his grocery delivery route. I honestly wish I could bring myself to care, but I’ve either pushed that part of me so far down I can’t find it anymore, or I never had it to begin with.
I smile and try to remember to look disappointed when all I really want to do is scream at him to run for his life.
But I don’t. I wait. I have to wait.
And it’s killing me.
Duke shoves his phone into his pocket. He gives me one more killer smile before pecking me on the lips and reaching around to smack me on the ass. His gaze lingers on my body for a few seconds.
Just get in your fucking car already.
I wait patiently with what I hope looks like a smile on my face for him to walk backward down the steps with his eyes never leaving mine until he reaches the curb where his Prius is parked. It’s wrapped in the same bright green GrubTrain logo as his hat and shirt. He turns his baseball cap back around before he gets in and starts the engine. He rolls the window down. “Bye, Sarah,” he says with a wave.
The way Sarah rolls lazily off his perfect lips makes me almost wish it were my real name.
Before Duke’s car turns the corner, I’ve got the security camera app on my phone up, and I’m looking at the black and white video feed from the basement. I notice immediately that one of my computer monitors is on the floor, the screen smashed. My chair is tipped over.
I’m trying to figure out if I should grab the emergency bag I’ve buried in the lot across the street, or just leave it and take the next bus out of Banyan Cay, when I see Izzy on my screen. The fat cat is taking a leisurely stroll across my keyboard in all her black and white fluffy glory.
She must have gotten in through the basement window somehow. I remind myself to check the lock and the alarm wiring.