Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 79959 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79959 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
But it hadn't helped me make sense of Summer.
It certainly didn't help to come back and see her shiver when I touched her. Not flinch away. Not freak the hell out. No... she reacted. Not like one of V's girls would have reacted. Just like any woman would react.
I took to the bag, beating it until my fists felt raw. The kind of raw, burning sensation you got right before the skin broke open. I sat down on the bench, staring at the walls.
I didn't feel any better.
My phone blinked and I reached for it.
Cash: You're fucked.
I'm not fucked.
Cash: Saw how you looked at her.
She's hot.
Cash: More than that and you know it.
Nothin' gonna happen. What's up at the club?
Cash: Bitching about clean up. Hungover. Had a BlackOut party last night.
No word on V?
Cash: Saw one of his guys in the ghetto looking around.
Keep me posted.
He was looking already. That was good. The sooner he ran through the area, the better. No one had seen her. He would move on.
Not that he would stop looking for her. She was important. I didn't know why she was important. And maybe she didn't even know why she was important, but I was going to make sure of that.
She wasn't going to keep shit from me anymore.
Nine
Summer
I heard the pounding and the sound of chains smacking together. I'd seen enough movies to place the sound. A punching bag. He had a punching bag. Listening, a weird sense of morbid humor came over me and I had to force myself to not laugh. Because it was twisted to even think it:
He had a punching bag in a basement. I used to be a punching bag in a basement.
What was wrong with me?
Then just as suddenly as it started, it stopped and I heard his booted feet stomping on the steps, then the door to the basement slammed shut.
Angry.
Even his footsteps in the hallway sounded angry.
I skirted around the bed, my heart flying into my throat, trying to put space between us. Because I knew he was coming. He was coming and he was pissed.
He stepped into the doorway, his hair wet with sweat, his hands clenched into fists, his shoulders tight. His eyes fell on me. And just like that... the anger seemed to deflate. His shoulders went slack, his hands unclenched, his eyes looked almost sad.
“Christ,” he said on an exhale. His head ducked, his hand running across his brow before his eyes came up to me again. “I'm not gonna hurt you, babe,” he said, his voice soft. “Never, okay?” he said, stepping into the room. I felt myself retreat and watched him wince. “Babe, eyes,” he commanded and I lifted mine to his. “Long as I'm around no one will ever hurt you, okay?”
He meant that.
He didn't even know me, but he was going to make sure that never happened again. And I believed him.
“Okay.”
“Okay,” he said, nodding. “I'm gonna take a shower then you and me, we're having some words. You're gonna talk, understand?”
Shit.
He knew I was lying to him.
He knew and he wasn't going to let me get away with it.
“Yes,” I answered, nodding, though inside I knew that couldn't happen.
I couldn't let that happen. It would put me at risk. And my father at risk.
“Give me ten,” he said, then was off. Not ten seconds later, I heard the shower turn on.
I turned, grabbing the sweatshirt off the bed and throwing it on. I had no shoes. But there was nothing I could do about that. I took off my socks, stuffing them inside the pocket of my sweatshirt, then crept down the hall, wincing anytime a floorboard squeaked. I made it to the front door, unlocking it, then slipping out, closing it as quietly as I could manage.
Then I ran.
The field seemed like it was endless. The ride in hadn't seemed so bad. But then again, I wasn't doing it on foot. It was at least an acre. But I could see the gate. My heart was pounding in my chest, half from running and half from... well... the very strong feeling that I was doing the wrong thing. That it wasn't a good plan.
That I would only ever be safe with Reign.
But that was so ridiculous that I dropped to the ground beside the gate, looking for the button.
It wasn't there.
But it had to be there.
There was always a button. I had been in my fair share of gated homes in my past. There had to be a button to press to get out.
“The fuck you doing?”
Shit.
I flew back, falling onto my ass hard enough for me to yelp slightly. My eyes found Reign's well worn boots near my feet. I followed the line up, finding dark wash jeans slung low on his hips and... nothing else. Shirtless again. My eyes crept upward to his face, his mouth parted slightly, his brows drawn together.
“Summer...” he said and the paralysis in my body flew away and I scrambled up on to my feet, brushing past him. “Babe,” he said, his hand grabbing my arm from behind, “the fuck?”
Then he was turning me to face him, pushing my back against the hard metal gate. The hand that wasn't holding my arm lifted, knuckles sliding across my jaw and slowly tilting my face up to his.
“Why you running?” he asked, his voice soft. Well, as soft as someone who gargled glass could get.
I felt my lips part to answer, but the words didn't come as I looked into his hazel eyes. Watching, something crossed them. Something heated. Something that made his eyelids lower slightly.
“Fuck it,” he said under his breath.
And then his lips were on mine, sending a jolt through my body. There was no hesitation, no softness. His lips seared into mine, branding me in a way that was almost painfully hot, but so consuming that I didn't even think about the fact that I was going to walk around the rest of my days marked by Reign. Even if it had crossed my mind, I don't think it would have mattered. Because I just... melted into him. My arms went up around his neck, pressing my body into his, my hands sinking into his wet hair. His tongue slipped across the crease in my lips. They parted and his tongue slipped inside.