Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 77287 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77287 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
His words spark something inside me, because he’s too close to the truth.
I’ve been fucked up about it all week.
I’ve wanted to go to Onyx House every single day since we got back to campus, and it’s been tormenting me, like I have a devil on one shoulder and an angel on the other, and both of them have been screaming at me to go to Weston.
And I’m starting to feel like breaking every one of my rules.
To act on impulse.
To tell Weston how I actually feel.
“Yeah, and maybe I’m not afraid to admit I missed you,” I tell him. “Has that crossed your mind?”
He frowns and still purposely doesn’t look over at me. The way he looks now, with the thin sheen of sweat covering every inch of his body, makes me feel like my body is on fire. His loose white tank top has arm holes that are cut super low, revealing the sides of his torso.
I want him bent over for me again.
I want fucking all of him, and it’s been driving me batshit insane all week as he avoids me like I’m a ghost.
“You didn’t text me or stop me after Sellwood’s class,” he says. “Doesn’t seem like you missed me.”
“You didn’t text me, either, Sheriff,” I tell him.
“Did you want a good morning text every day and a good night one before bed?” he asks.
“I know you’re being sarcastic, but it would be kind of cute if you actually did that. Might help my morning wood—”
“Fuck off,” he says softly, but there’s a softness to his tone, with no bite.
You missed me, too.
You just can’t say it.
And… that’s probably my fault.
“Can you talk to me for once, Wes?” I ask, feeling the pleasant burn in my calves.
He sighs. “Is everything okay with Kieran? No news is good news, right?”
“The situation is stable. For now.”
“And that means he’s not going to flip his shit and start a war?”
I nod. “As long as Roman doesn’t fuck with him, yes.”
He glares at me. “Roman isn’t going to do that.”
“Well, good, then.”
He’s silent for a while, and I wait for his next layer of ice to thaw as we run.
“Why do you suddenly want to talk to me at all?” he finally asks. “Never wanted to before.”
“Because I need to fuck you again.”
He looks over at me for a moment before looking away again.
“Go fuck someone else.”
“I don’t want to fuck anyone else,” I say, probably too loudly.
We’re running down the gravel path at the western edge of campus, over by manicured gardens that are now in peak bloom. The last breath of winter left after last week’s brief snow flurries, and now spring has stepped back in with a vengeance, warming everything under golden sunlight. Each tree is bursting with blooms or green buds by now, and the whole campus feels…
Awake.
Alive.
Ready for something new, something different.
I’ve been spending all week trying to get Kieran to chill the hell out and pump his brakes about Onyx, and the only reason it’s been working is because I’m pretty sure he’s afraid of Roman Petrov.
Today, finally, Kieran also told me that he quit taking triple-doses of stimulants. He threw out all of the pills he’d gotten from other students, and he told me he wants to reset and get more level-headed.
Thank. God.
He was a lot calmer this morning, and I feel like I can finally relax a little again.
Other than Weston trying to give me the world’s most frustrating edging experience of all time.
He wipes at his forehead with the back of his arm now as he runs, and I swear it’s like he knows he’s the hottest fucking thing on campus.
“Somehow, I don’t believe that,” he mutters under his breath.
“Believe what?”
“That you don’t want to fuck anyone else. I’m sure you’re looking forward to the next Zenith party so you can get some other doe-eyed freshman guy to throat your cock or something.”
He cuts a corner sharply and heads up the looping path that will take us back to the center of campus.
“I’m not even going to the next Zenith party,” I tell him.
“You’re not?”
“It’s next Saturday. The alumni dinner is that night, and you know that.”
“Whatever.”
“And I went to Zenith nights primarily to fight with other guys who want to fight. Occasionally people also sucked me off, but I have no interest in them now.”
“Because you’d rather ruin my fucking life.”
“Stop,” I roar at him, taking him by the shoulders and pinning him up against the brick wall of the building beside the path.
His skin is warm from his run.
I squeeze his shoulder, hanging there for a moment, holding his gaze.
He’s breathing heavy as he looks at me, keeping his eyes cold as he watches me. His gaze flicks lower, then back up at me.
“What are you going to do, hurt me?” he says gently.