Total pages in book: 175
Estimated words: 164346 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 822(@200wpm)___ 657(@250wpm)___ 548(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 164346 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 822(@200wpm)___ 657(@250wpm)___ 548(@300wpm)
Her breathing picks up as she asks, “What did you do … that night at my apartment?”
“I can show you.” I’d love to watch her watch me play with her while she was drugged. See if it turns her on. I have a feeling she’d get off on that.
“Really?” Her eyes widen and her nipples harden at that thought.
“Yeah, but not tonight.” I pull the covers back, and she crawls under them naked. I slide in next to her, and she snuggles into my side. I go to shove her away but don’t. Instead, I pull her closer, knowing that this house is full of almost a hundred men, and any one of them would gladly take her from me.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
BLAKELY
THE FOLLOWING MORNING, we’re walking down the hallway of my apartment complex and come up to my door. Two boxes are sitting outside of it. Ryat bends down to pick them up, and then takes the keys from my hand and unlocks the door, shoving it open for me.
“What’s in those boxes?” I ask, entering.
“Curtains,” he answers, locking it after he closes it.
“Curtains?” I wonder. “Why are you having things shipped to my apartment?”
“Because they are for your windows.”
I follow him into the kitchen, and he opens the top drawer, pulling out the scissors and cuts the top, popping it open. “How did you know where those scissors were?” I ask, but he ignores me, repeating the process with the second box. “Why do I need those?” I go on.
“You’ve got an hour,” he dismisses me.
Standing here, I look down at them, wondering what the hell he’s doing when he spins me around and slaps my ass playfully, ordering, “Go get ready.”
“It won’t take me that long,” I say, trying to figure out what the hell he’s doing.
“You should pack a bag.”
I didn’t have anything at his place, so we had to stop by here this morning before my ten o’clock class. I start to walk toward my room but stop and turn to look at him. “Can we stay here?”
He stops fucking with the damn curtains and looks up at me. Brows scrunching. “Here?” he repeats.
I nod. “Yeah, the house is crowded.” And Matt is there. “Can we stay here? At least sometimes? Or is that against a rule?” I have no clue what they are and aren’t allowed to do. Matt would never tell me shit! I thought it was because he was trying to protect me, but now I think it’s because he was hiding stuff from me.
“No. It’s not against any rules,” he answers, and I smile at his honesty but notice he doesn’t answer my first question. “Go get ready.” He returns his attention to my new curtains, making me roll my eyes.
I throw on some makeup—foundation, mascara, and blush. Then I brush my hair before running a straightener over the ends to try to calm it down quickly since I fell asleep with it wet last night, and then slip on a black tank top and a skirt. It resembles a tennis skirt with a wide waistband and pleats. The fabric is light and soft. I lean over the countertop and apply red lipstick and call it good.
I walk into my bedroom to find him standing in front of my window, admiring the black curtains that now hang from my window. He must have hung them while I was in the bathroom. “I’m ready.”
He looks over his shoulder at me and then turns his entire body around, placing his hands on his hips. His eyes start at my chest and slowly run down to my heels, hardening to a darker green. “Change,” he orders.
I laugh at that and walk into the kitchen. “I’m going to grab a drink really quick, then we can go.” Bending over into the fridge, I pick up a bottle of water. Straightening, I turn and shut it. “Okay …” I call out, but he’s standing right there, making me jump. “Jesus, Ryat …”
He grips my hair and yanks me forward. I cry out, dropping my water. Shoving me down, he bends me at the waist and drags me back to the bedroom, tossing me onto the bed facedown.
I go to get up, but he grabs my hands and yanks them behind my back. “Ryat …” I gasp his name when he sits on my thighs, pinning me down, knowing exactly where this is going. He brings my arms parallel against my back, holding them with one hand, his fingers digging into my skin. Then I hear him removing his belt with his free hand. It wraps around my forearms a few times, then he fastens it, securing them in place.
My face is pushed into the comforter, smearing what little makeup I just applied. He gets up off my thighs and slaps them. “Put my ass in the air,” he commands.