Quinn Herrington. Reed had mentioned seeing her chase after the boys. Seems she’s gotten what she wants. The way she gazes up at Marek makes bile climb my throat. He catches me watching them. I should glance away, but I can’t. Am I imagining the plea for understanding coming from him?
I push off the ground, only to take a book to the back by Dixon. Marek literally steps right over me, like I’m nothing, the complete opposite of what he made me believe moments ago. I’m the center of attention, and everyone is hiding behind their hands to whisper in someone’s ear, finding my pain as entertainment.
Shoulder to shoulder, they walk away from me, not one of them bothering to look at their handy work. I’m where they always intended me to be. I’m no longer lost in the shadows, blissfully hidden away. They’ve set the tone for me to be at the front of everyone’s attention.
With labored breath, I rush past the crowd Marek and Dixon somehow conjured up to witness my downfall. When I’m far enough away, my steps slow. I grip the metal light pole, willing my chest to stop burning.
When my vision clears, my eyes skim down the black metal until I spot the gold plaque. The embossed letters are cold against my fingers.
Georgina Matthews. May her short life shine light on yours.
Unable to stay on my feet, I slink down to the bench. I close my eyes only to be greeted by visions of Georgina’s twisted body, immediately followed by one of Reed’s bloody dorm room.
Overcome by it all, tears prickle at the back of my eyes. This is too scary, and if there’s one thing I am, it’s tired of being frightened all the time.
I rush through campus and manage to survive the rest of my classes, only to have a small run-in with Breaker in the cafeteria around dinner time. He knocks my tray out of my arms, spilling my dinner down the front of my uniform. Breaker bows to his followers as if he’s accomplished something.
Not bothering to clean up the mess on the floor, I run from the building to the sound of laughter and applause. Dixon and Byron step into my path, and I skirt around them.
“Don’t worry, Miss Weston, we love a fighter,” Byron calls out.
Kings in their castles, declaring who is beneath them, and who is worthy.
I run straight to my building, but when I enter my code, it doesn’t work. Even after getting it fixed the other day, I’m locked out again. Maybe if I bang my head on the door enough, I’ll wake up and this day will have been a simple nightmare.
My phone vibrates. Marek’s name is on the screen. I guess I’m not dreaming.
Try 1-0-4-5.
I look around to see if I’m alone before I type in the code. The door clicks, and I open it and ease into the building. As I rush to the elevator, I scan everything in sight, hoping to spot the next attack before it hits me.
Them stealing my trust is one thing, but now, they’re after my safety.
I unlock the door to my dark apartment. This is nothing new, but right now, it might be more than I can handle. My body itches with the stench of today’s chaos. I strip on the way to the bathroom, turn on the light, and jump into the shower. The water burns my flesh, and with a hand on the cool tile wall, I accept the sting it brings.
Through the steam, orange blossom and leather hit my senses. Warmth wraps around me as a familiar hand flattens on my taut skin. With his fingers splayed out, Marek pulls me into his chest.
“What are you doing?” I whisper.
This is when I should be scared. I’m helpless here, alone, yet not.
His head dips down, and his chin rests on my shoulder, his lips close to my ear. He takes a few breaths, his chest moving in rhythm with mine. We are both struggling to stay still.
As if he can read my mind, I’m spun around, and my back hits the tile. His hand slides across my collarbone and creeps up around my neck.
“Do it,” I goad, dropping my attention to his dick.
“Do you get off on pushing me?” His fingers tighten enough for me to notice the subtle movement. The pressure is uncomfortable.
“Do you get off on pushing me?” I jerk forward to try to loosen his hold, only for him to squeeze tighter.
“You have no idea how far I’m capable of pushing you, Palmer.” I watch his lips as he slings the threat.
Like a lightning storm brewing between us, his lips crash into mine, and I’m hoisted up into his arms. He devours my mouth, and my brain short circuits when his tongue slips across my lips.
Everything is forgotten.
I’m me. He’s him. That’s all that matters.
“Fuck!” Marek pulls back, slamming his fist next to my head so hard I think he’s cracked the tile. Some internal debate plays out in his eyes, and the moment he grimaces, I know I’m going to get a different version of the Marek I’ve experienced this far.
Before I can brace myself, he pushes inside of me. The move is effortless, and I’m surprised when he leans his forehead against mine, watching me as he fucks me against the shower wall.
My mind is telling me to push him off, tell him no, but my body has other plans. With my arms wrapped around his shoulders, I hold on for dear life, riding our pleasure until his body tenses against mine.
“I shouldn’t have come here,” he moans in my ear, coming inside of me.
With an unexpected gentleness, he sets my feet on the shower floor. The warm proof of Marek being inside of me, pools between my thighs. I squeeze them together, covering my chest, suddenly self-conscious of being exposed to him.
Without speaking, Marek grabs my shampoo and washes my hair. Once it’s rinsed, he slathers on the conditioner, running his fingers through the strands under the warm water until it’s clean.
“What are you—” He holds up a finger, silencing me.
My time is limited with him, so I don’t say anything else, instead, choosing to accept whatever he does to me.
He reaches behind me and grabs my pink loofa, squirting a quarter-sized amount of body wash on the middle. Like this is completely normal behavior, he hands me the bottle to put back in its place. When my back is turned, Marek bends down, putting my senses on high alert. He starts at my ankle and works his way slowly up my calf, then switches to the other leg to continue the torture. The small cuts on my knees are tender.
He shows undivided attention to every inch of my body, hissing in a breath when his fingers creep between my legs. He’s gentler than I’ve ever imagined him capable of.
Once he’s happy with his work, he turns the shower knob, stopping the flow of water, sending a direct chill over my body. After sliding the curtain back, Marek steps out, grabs a towel, and holds it out in front of him. I step into the plush material, and he wraps it around my wet body.
“You didn’t wear a condom,” I say, passing by him to get to my closet.
“Count yourself lucky, sweetie. I’ve never done without one before.” As he steps out into my living room, his pants aren’t buttoned, and his shirt is dangling from his hand. “I’m a cruel son of a bitch, but I’m not that cruel.” He slips the shirt on, the fabric clinging to his damp skin. “I’m clean, so you can go ahead and chill the fuck out.”
“I think I have every right to be freaking out, Marek. You snuck into my shower and had sex with me.” I drop the towel, knowing damn well what my plan is. He wants to storm in here, acting like an entitled cave man, then I get to torture him a little bit. “And it isn’t me I’m worried about.”