I stare at her dad, wanting to make him hurt, wanting to make him bleed.
“Please,” her voice is so soft and quiet, and I know she means the word only for me. She slides her hand down my forearm, and before her touch slips away, I grip her hand.
“Let’s go,” I say.
She closes her eyes, relief evident as our fingers weave together. I turn to discover Arlo and Poppy on either side of Pax, his rage still heightened.
“This wasn’t how it was supposed to go,” the dean says.
No one responds as Arlo works to shuffle Pax back in the direction of Raegan’s room. The atmosphere has changed, a rushed frenzy as we all shove things into bags with a sudden urgency.
Poppy starts to close the first suitcase while I look around, questioning what else to pack.
“Do you have your laptop? Your chargers?” Pax asks.
Raegan nods, wearing a sweatshirt she hadn’t been when we’d arrived. “I’ve got it all.”
There’s still a ton of shit in the room, but I think back to my childhood room when I moved into my first apartment freshman year and how it still looked fully lived in.
“Let’s go,” Poppy says, closing the next suitcase.
Arlo grabs one bag, and Paxton grabs a second. Poppy grabs a duffle, and Raegan grabs her backpack. I grip the last two bags, one larger and the other a smaller bag that Rae reaches for. I shake her off and look to Arlo, silently requesting for him to lead the way.
He reads my thoughts, wheeling the suitcase across the wood floor and clearing the doorway, followed by Paxton and Poppy, who holds Raegan’s hand, further proving her devotion to their friendship. “Let’s go.”
I follow them, making it to the living room before the dean reappears.
“What are you doing?” he asks, looking at the array of bags.
“I can’t stay here,” she says.
He reaches for the largest of the two bags I’m carrying, and I drop the smaller one, and shove him back. “You’ve already exceeded my patience,” I warn him. “Get the fuck away from her.”
He stares in bewilderment before moving his attention to Rae. “It was already broken. Our marriage ended years ago. Things change. We’d become friends—acquaintances,” he says.
“We weren’t broken,” she tells him. “But we are now.”
He stares at her for another second, but defeat stops him from saying anything more.
We get back to the house, and Paxton punches the school bus-yellow box that our weekly newspapers are delivered in. It partially splinters, hanging limply against the wooden post.
Caleb emerges from the house. “Everything okay?” he asks quietly.
Raegan shakes her head. “Can you help him?”
Caleb nods, moving in the direction of Paxton while the rest of us grab bags and head inside.
“Just leave them here,” Rae says, dropping a bag near the front door. “I’ll figure something out.” She expels a shallow breath. “Do you guys mind if I take a shower?” She stops, her eyes roving across the bags. “I forgot all my bathroom stuff.”
Poppy shakes her head. “It’s all in the small bag. I’ve got it all. Your hair dryer, makeup, everything.”
I grab the bag and then the one we shoved the contents of her dresser into. “Come on.” I nod in the direction of the stairs, leading the way up to one of the two full bathrooms in the house.
“You can leave those in the hall,” she says. “I’ll be out of here tonight.”
“What?”
She turns, both hands are woven into her hair. Her eyes show signs of a storm as she looks over each of my features before settling on my eyes.
“Where are you going?”
She shrugs. “I don’t know yet.”
“Stay here.”
“I can’t.”
“Why?”
She parts her lips, like she’s going to answer, but then stops.
“Because of me?”
“Partly.”
My heart pounds objections fiercely. “Because of last night?”
“Because of everything.”
“Your dad was unhinged. You should just stay here for a while.”
She starts shaking her head before the final words leave my lips, her gaze falling from mine. “I don’t need to see the Lincoln fan club march through here. I need some space.”
Space is the very last thing I want to give her as questions race through my mind, demanding answers. Questions about her childhood, and if her dad has acted like that before. If he’s raised a hand to her? If he’s called her names like that previously? My strides are like a beat, steady and even as I cross to her. She looks up at me, a tear forming in her lower lashes.
“I don’t want it to mean anything,” she whispers. “I just want you to make me feel something else. I want to feel something that doesn’t hurt.”
21
Lincoln
Her fingers fist in my sweatshirt, contradicting her need for space, as her body slams into mine with enough impact it knocks every bit of sense from me. I lean into her, catching her lips and directing her chin to the side so I can slant my lips completely over hers, stealing her air and inhibitions. Her arms go around my neck, and she lifts her chin higher, parting her lips and running her tongue along my upper lip. She growls with impatience when I don’t grant her access. I pull away only a fraction, knowing we need to exchange reasons and words. She seems to recognize my thoughts because she deftly shakes her head and delves her fingers into my hair, covering my mouth with hers. She kisses me with so much need it knocks me off balance, and I respond instantly, my fingers sliding between the silky strands of her hair and grabbing her backside with the other, pressing her against my hardened cock.
She moans, the sound so pleasurable and addictive I lose what restraint I had left. I run my tongue along hers, tracing each line of her mouth. I pull back only long enough to back into the bathroom, where I flip on the lights and lock the door because I want to see every single part of her. She takes a breath, her eyes darting from the door to the lights.
“We can stop.”
Raegan shakes her head. “You said that you don’t date or get attached, and that’s perfect. I don’t want those things either. So, let’s just make this simple. We use each other. We are each other’s escape.” She unzips her sweatshirt, letting it fall to the ground, then reaches for the hem of her shirt.
I grab the fabric before she can remove it and step closer, coming toe to toe with her. I grip the elastic holding her hair in a pony and tug it free. Her hair falls in long layers, inviting me to tangle my fingers in the strands. “What do you want to feel?” I ask, running my nose along her cheekbone, reaching her ear. I take the lobe between my teeth, grazing it before I swipe my tongue over the sensitive flesh. She leans closer, her breaths ragged.
“You,” she says.
I groan softly, licking a path across her warm skin, straight to her exposed collarbone. “Where?”
She tips her chin back, her fingers tangled in my sweatshirt. “Everywhere.”
I pull her shirt free, admiring the pink and gray leopard print bra that presents her breasts to me like a present waiting to be unwrapped. I take in her chest, the delicate bones around her neck, the flat planes of her ab muscles, and then back to her face and the fine layer of freckles that sprinkle her cheeks. Her eyes are shining, expressing her need and desire as she watches my gaze feast over her.