Total pages in book: 146
Estimated words: 147801 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 739(@200wpm)___ 591(@250wpm)___ 493(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 147801 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 739(@200wpm)___ 591(@250wpm)___ 493(@300wpm)
But in that case, Grant would’ve found Gareth and killed him. Just like our father did to his college sweetheart.
So, in a twisted way, I owe Declan.
The clip is short, grainy, and soundless. Gareth isn’t visible, tucked in the seat as I climbed on top of him. That was after he called his car, Medusa, his “baby” again. Irrational jealousy over a car—how fucking absurd.
The memory is vivid, sharper than the video. The surprised grunt he let out when I shoved him back. The mischievous sparkle in his green eyes. Those damn dimples creasing his cheeks as he wrapped his arms around me.
“Am I going to be punished, Professor?” His voice had been a low, rough murmur, heavy with arousal.
I see it in the clip—our bodies pressed together, his mouth beneath mine. Even soundless, I can almost hear him, feel the rasp of his breaths against my skin. “K-Kayde…more…fuck yes…”
I can still feel the way his muscles softened beneath my hands, his heartbeat thundering against mine, and his ears turning red. The small, needy noises he only ever makes for me.
The ghost of his scent fills my senses, and I’m instantly hard, the ache sharp and all-consuming. I can feel him even now—the heat, the tension, the way his hips aligned perfectly with mine.
I’m about to reach into my pants and relieve the ache when Moka jumps from the sofa to the table, scattering chess pieces across the table.
Voices filter in from downstairs, dragging me back to reality.
I slam the laptop shut to stand and open the door for Moka, who’s meowing loudly. Tension coils in my body as I stride to the top of the stairs.
Then I freeze.
At first, I think he’s a figment of my imagination, just like all the other times.
When I sleep, I picture him wiping me down and stroking my hand.
But he never speaks to me. No matter what I say, he just stares at me with those empty eyes.
Eyes I turned dead.
But then I blink, and he’s gone.
And I go back to sleep, but he’s not there again.
But this time, he’s real.
I’m blinking and he’s still standing there, holding Moka in his hands as she headbutts his chin.
My lungs seize, the air thick and heavy as though it’s been sucked from the room. The sight of him is a punch to the gut, a heavy, raw wave crashing into me.
His golden hair is longer now, falling messily over his forehead. His sharp jaw and cheekbones seem even more pronounced, but the rest of him…
He’s hollowed out.
My little monster has lost weight, rapidly, his muscles no longer stretching along his arms like they used to. His white T-shirt clings to his body, his jeans hanging low on his hips, hinting at the frame I used to worship daily.
But now, he seems distant. Untouchable, even.
The Band-Aid on his forehead is a stark, glaring reminder of what I’ve done and why I shouldn’t touch him.
Even though I can’t see them, I know jagged stitches are hidden beneath his jacket sleeve. I see them every time I close my eyes. The sight of him back then, his own blood that he didn’t think twice about spilling, haunts me.
I can almost feel the cold sting of his blood beneath my fingertips, in my veins, and carved in my chest.
Still, seeing him expands my lungs. For the first time in what feels like forever, I can breathe. His presence fills the space like a storm, leaving me both paralyzed and desperate to reach him.
But I can’t.
A burning tightness twists my stomach, but I say in a clipped, detached tone, “What are you doing here?”
Simone’s and Jethro’s bickering fades as Gareth’s green eyes meet mine. My grip tightens on the railing to stop myself from descending, from pulling him into my arms, from touching him.
“That’s what I was asking!” Jethro snaps, his voice cutting through the tension. “Why the fuck did you bring him here, Simone? You trying to get him killed?”
She shoves him away. “He said either I bring him or he goes to Grant. What do you think was the smarter option, genius?”
He was on his way back to school, but he demanded Simone bring him here? To me?
“You should leave,” I say coldly, though my grip on the railing threatens to crack the wood.
Gareth’s brow furrows, his gaze darkening as Moka jumps from his arms. Then his upper lip curls into a snarl. “The fuck you just say to me?”
“Leave, Gareth. Go back to school.” I aim for firm, not harsh, but I see the anger ignite in his eyes.
Then I turn, climbing the two steps again, and head back to my office. I barely sit down before the door hits the wall as he barges in, his shoulders crowding with tension and the lines in his face harsh.