Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 100476 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100476 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
“Ask Roux,” I tell her, our eyes locking. “Not my story to tell.”
Panic flashes in her eyes and then they grow watery. “I missed an entire year of my life. My friends and family. I should know these stories.” Her bottom lip trembles. “I hate myself for that.”
I pin her against the lockers, my hips pressing into hers. “You’re not allowed to hate yourself, loser.” I bring my fingers to her chin, tilting her head up. “That’s my job, beautiful. One I take very seriously.”
Rather than cowering at my words, she fucking smiles.
Goddamn this girl.
“Hating myself is hard,” she admits. “Depressing. It’s much more therapeutic when you do it for me.”
I nip at her lip. “Glad to be of service.”
Our mouths meet for a fiery kiss that has her writhing in my arms. If I didn’t think we’d get caught, I’d rip her jeans off and fuck her right here. Leave her wet, cum-stained panties on Wes’s door so he knows I’ve laid claim to her.
“If you’re done dry fucking my sister, I’d like to steal her. We’re supposed to meet Dad at four to go to dinner.”
I pull away, turning to grin at Penny, who wears a bored expression as she stares at her phone. “Tell Daddy to save a seat for me. I’m pretty hungry.” I turn to wink at Charlotte while Penny pretends to gag.
“You two are so gross,” she complains. “I’ll be in the Jeep, sis.”
As soon as she leaves, I steal another kiss from my girl.
Dinner with the English family was surprisingly laidback. It’s easy to see the girls adore their father. I like the guy, but since Roan hasn’t completely forgiven him for what he did to Hollis, I can’t show it. Garrett may have fucked his family over when he lost his shit over Hollis being gay, but I think he truly feels remorse. He moved across country to be near them and basically dedicates every free second of his time to seeing his kids. Yeah, Garrett’s okay in my book.
My phone buzzes, distracting me from my thoughts.
Some Douchebag: I can get a keg for Campfire Chaos, bro.
I crack my neck as I reply back.
Me: Find some other place to party. Campfire Chaos is indefinitely canceled.
He sends me a bunch of crying emojis. Fucking loser.
Me: Lose my number.
The douchebag sends me a thumbs-up. I wish I knew who it was so I could break his thumbs. Whoever created the thumbs-up emoji was a fucking asshole. No one uses it in a happy way. It’s always a smartass, passive aggressive “fuck you.”
I send him a picture of my middle finger. The real one. No fucking emoji. Then, I block his reject ass.
I’m annoyed, but then, like always lately, my mind drifts back to Charlotte. I’d wanted to steal her and fuck her in the restaurant bathroom tonight but settled for just fucking with her in general. The girl didn’t cower or balk when I’d give her shit. Instead, she laughed and even punched my arm a few times.
It was…nice.
Warmth curls in my belly as I think about her. Supple, pink lips. Bright, fierce blue eyes. A cute little nose with a dash of freckles. I’m totally fucked with this girl.
Which is why I’m sitting in front of Wes motherfucking Ewing’s house like a stalker. This afternoon, he pushed me too far. I gave my warning for him to stay away from her and he ignored it. I’d heard the pathetic way he tried to get her to go on a date with him. Fucking pervert. I’d put off my plans to terrorize him because everything that happened with Terrence derailed them, but my focus is back on Ewing.
I’m going to expose him for the sicko he is.
The living room light goes out and then a few seconds later another light turns on somewhere else in his house. The light is dimmer and blue. I fling open my truck door and hop out, barely clicking the door closed behind me. Stealthily, I stalk across the street into his yard. I prowl over to the window and peek between the slats of the blinds.
Nasty ass.
The fucker is sitting at a desk, his back to the window, his right hand moving as he rubs on himself. He clicks through several images of shit on his computer that I don’t want to even see because one glance tells me they’re way too young. The pervert settles on a girl with dark hair, reminding me of Roux when she was in middle school. Gritting my teeth to keep from throwing my phone through his window, I instead swipe it open and turn it to video mode. I take a video, looking elsewhere as he beats off. His groans can be heard through the window, making me cringe. When he finishes, I walk away slowly, sweeping the camera to look at his house. I make it to his mailbox, zooming in on the address.