Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 104239 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104239 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
“I’ll get out of your hair now.” She leaves with a little smile, and right away, my mood sinks. I feel a little better but no safer. At least I know I can go to her when I start getting threats—and I know I will. That’s not a question. It’s only a matter of time.
I’m not leaving this school alive if they have their way. For all I know, Quinton and his buddies are plotting my demise as I pace my room, chewing my nails, wishing I had it in me to do what Lauren described. Having confidence and not hiding. Letting them know they can’t break me.
At least that part is true. How can you break something that’s already been broken?
15
LUCAS
Sweat drips down my face, adding to the puddle forming underneath me as I do another set of push-ups. I’ve lost count of how many it’s been so far. I only know my shoulders and arms are burning from the effort.
But I welcome it. That’s exactly what I want right now. To exhaust my body beyond the point of conscious thought. I need oblivion. I crave it. I even welcome the pain, gritting my teeth and pushing through though my body screams in protest. I deserve it. I need the punishment.
Since the option of finding a fight and snuffing out a man’s life is off the table now, I have to do what I can to keep myself in check.
I can’t remember the last time I was in this great a need. The sense of falling apart at the seams is like a shadow following me. No matter how I try to dodge it, there’s no avoiding it. I’m losing control.
My growl fills the room, and I double my efforts, shouting out my pain, fatigue, and rage. Finally, my muscles reach the point of complete exhaustion and give out on me. Rather than fall face-first in my sweat, I roll to the side and stare at the ceiling, my heavy breathing filling the air.
All I see in front of me is her. Smiling. Crying. Finding her mother’s letter. Staring me down when all I wanted was to watch fear spark behind her eyes.
What the fuck am I doing? This can’t go on.
I should never have brought her here. Not to the school, definitely not to my apartment. I hate her. I miss her. I resent her. I want to protect her. She’s become an obsession I resent and crave in equal parts.
She’s brought back every one of my worst tendencies. And I don’t know how to manage it. I feel myself slipping back into my old ways—that fight was the tip of the iceberg. I want to hurt something. I want to hurt it in hopes of ending my own pain.
Damn that Lauren. I’m talking to myself the way she talks to me, and I barely recognize the voice in my head anymore. I don’t need to know why I do what I do. What I need is to forget. To disconnect. Here I was, thinking working out until I collapsed was the way to do it.
Lying on the floor isn’t going to help anything, either. I drag myself up and grab a towel from the bathroom to wipe up the sweat before getting in the shower. Propping my forearms against the wall, I lean into the spray with my head lowered, so the steaming water runs down my shoulders and back. Normally, a strenuous workout leaves me feeling more alive. Right now, I’m tempted to wish I was anything but.
This has been the longest day of my life. As it turns out, there wasn’t nearly as much work waiting for me as I imagined—what a shame since I didn’t realize until it was too late that I was counting on that work to take my mind off Delilah. Instead, there was nothing for me to do after a few hours but wonder if she was safe. If she was afraid.
Of course she’s afraid. I saw that much written all over her face before I put a hand on her last night. Anyone with a scrap of common sense would be scared out of their mind in her position.
I hardly made things better.
But that isn’t my job, dammit. That’s what I tried to remind myself of today, though it didn’t work. She’s not my problem. This school is my problem. Aspen is my problem. Not this damn girl.
No matter how much I want to go to her. It would be so simple to go to her room and let her know she isn’t totally alone. That I crave her more than I crave air. I crave her scent. The sound of her voice. The tight clenching of her pussy around my cock in the split second before she comes.
To think I used to value my solitude. This apartment was always my escape, my refuge, the one place in this enormous structure where I could be myself. No mask, no need to be professional.