Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 98755 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 494(@200wpm)___ 395(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98755 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 494(@200wpm)___ 395(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
Braxton opens the passenger door for me, and I slide in with a smirk on my face. Obviously, he got his car repaired after I smashed into the back of it. He’s lucky I didn’t light it on fire. I’d heard Aunt Anya had done that to several of her husband’s cars, and the idea appeals to me.
We drive in silence, which is strangely nice, and he grabs my hand and strokes his thumb over mine. There’s so much to be said between us, but nothing at all at the same time. I let the warmth of his hand around mine soothe all of my seething hate for him. It feels like whiplash. Was I pissed this month because he didn’t give me any attention, or am I so weak in my resolve that I just need to be patted a little to be tamed?
We come to a stop at his apartment building, and he comes around the car to open the door for me. Nervous energy skitters under my skin. Not only is this wrong, but I feel like I’m stepping into something that will become harder for me to walk away from each time I indulge in it. That my time spent with Braxton is damaging me in ways I might not recover from.
He offers his hand to me, but when he notices I’m not moving, he reaches in and pulls me out.
“No one is going to see us here, Shortcake,” he assures me, and it surprises me how attuned he is to my inner thoughts. Though, if he were a mind reader, he’d be running the other way.
He leads me into the building, once again holding my hand, and I stare in fascination at where we’re joined as if in a daze. Why does the only man I let lead me in any way have to be an enemy to my family?
At the start, I only cared if they found out because they’d take away my fun of killing myself. I didn’t like how closely he was sniffing around my family affairs. But lately, there’s been a flicker of concern about what they’ll do if they find out there’s something between us.
I still want to kill him, though, right? I think it’ll be the most beautiful thing, more captivating than any glass statue I’ve created. But the idea of there being no more Braxton, as much as he terrorizes me, feels… strange.
I don’t even want to think about the consequences that would follow if my family found out about us. My aunty is as ruthless, possibly even more so, than my father. She would kill him first and ask questions later, not even caring that she would have the whole police force after her.
He unlocks his apartment door with his free hand and pushes it open before pulling me in with him. It’s only then that he drops my hand as he locks the door behind us, as if silently reminding me there’s nowhere to run.
I know I can leave at any time, but my legs don’t want to carry me away from him, only toward him.
But that kind of gravitational pull is terrifying.
“Shortcake.”
“I should leave,” I tell him, a spurt of panic running through me. What am I really doing here? What are we doing?
“No, you shouldn’t,” he growls.
He fills the space between us, my chest pressing against his stomach as I look up into those crystal-blue eyes. Eyes that see me. That demand my attention. That feel like they’re giving me all of him when we’re locked away from the outside world. But they can’t make the complications between us disappear.
I take a shaky breath. He knows who my family is and says he’s not scared of them, but what if he had reason to be scared of me? In fact, it’s a little offensive that he doesn’t feel that way. But the truth of the matter is, even if we felt deeply for one another, wouldn’t he turn on me in a heartbeat?
He goes to kiss me, but I find myself resting my hand on his chest and steeling myself for my next question.
“What if I told you that I like to kill people?” I ask as he brushes his nose against mine. I try to avoid the lure of his lips, heavy with anticipation for his response. He’d betray me, wouldn’t he? As he would with my family? If I were the worst of the worst, would he still love me?
My heart stops. Love me?
“Well, that would complicate things, wouldn’t it, Shortcake? But I’ve also seen you with a gun,” he says with mirth.
“I’m serious, Braxton,” I chide, pulling back from him as much as it pains me to do so. I thought this was only physical attraction between us. But what if it’s something more? Fuck. How did I end up thinking any of this? “Is this all a game to you?”