Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 127146 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 636(@200wpm)___ 509(@250wpm)___ 424(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127146 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 636(@200wpm)___ 509(@250wpm)___ 424(@300wpm)
“Let me go. I’m done being bullied by you. I’m not like everyone else on campus who melts into a puddle over your mere presence, and I’m not afraid to go to the campus police and tell them what you’re doing.” I speak the words through gritted teeth and labored breaths.
My words are nothing more than a verbal threat. I’m not dumb enough to think the campus police would do anything about him. They didn’t do anything about his friend Sebastian or the others doing whatever they wanted all over campus. They don’t give a fuck, not when money is involved.
His grip tightens, and I grit my teeth, bearing through the pain. My vision becomes blurry, and my lungs start to burn from the absence of oxygen. Sirens go off in my mind. The muscles in my limbs start to lose feeling, and I become weaker.
Would this guy kill me? Maybe. He’s got the personality type to do it.
Blackness threatens to take over, and for half a second, I start to doubt his desire to keep me around. I had assumed he wouldn’t kill me, that I wasn’t worth that much trouble.
Before I can finish the thought, the pressure on my throat disappears. I sag against the shelf and half gasp, half cough while sucking precious oxygen back into my deflated lungs.
I look into the dark eyes of the man who has shown me both pleasure and pain. Menace and kindness. The look of desire, of unholy obsession that reflects back at me freezes me with fear. A smile touches his lips, and the sudden whiplash I feel over his change in emotions makes me spiral. He reaches for me, and I flinch. Of course he doesn’t care, and continues doing what he wants, tracing my cheek with his finger like he didn’t just try to strangle the life out of me moments before.
“I think I’ve figured it out, Bel. What it is that makes you so appealing. You said it best. You don’t give a shit about my name, what I look like, or how much money I have. None of the superficial things matter to you. In fact, if I had to guess, I’d say you don’t like me very much right now, if at all… and that’s okay. I can like you enough for both of us.” The boyish grin he gives me is a terrible attempt at easing the tension. “But let me warn you, there is a reason many steer clear of me. None of the superficial things have to mean shit to you, but I need you to use that brain of yours and not push me past the point of no return. Make it easy on both of us and be the good girl I know you can be.”
“I’m not afraid of you,” I hiss through my teeth. It’s a complete lie. I’m not just afraid—I’m fucking terrified—but you can’t do anything but face fear. You own it…or it owns you. What’s worse, I can’t tell if I’m more afraid of him or how he makes me feel.
“And that’s why I want you and no one else, flower. Can’t you see how perfect we are together?”
“No thanks,” I mumble and attempt to make a beeline in front of him. My body crashes against his bigger stature as he steps forward, cutting me off. His huge hands come out of nowhere, cupping my cheeks, and he drags me closer. Leaning in, he presses his full lips firmly against mine. I've kissed people before, and I know what it feels like.
This isn’t a kiss. It’s a fucking claiming. A form of ownership, a show of dominance. His tongue probes against my lips, and I press my own tighter together, refusing to allow him entrance. He fixes that with a simple press of his thumbs into my soft cheeks. Pain fills my face, and I open my mouth on instinct to stop it. His tongue invades my mouth and tangles with my own. His touch, his kiss… It's a promise, a warning.
The thing is, I’ve been dealt a shitty hand my entire life, and I’ve determined the only way I can get a better hand is if I do the dealing. Choosing my next move, I lift my hands and press them against his chest flat, then I sink my teeth into his lip, hard enough that the coppery tang of blood fills my mouth. I shove him at the same time as he pulls back, his body teetering and off balance. Finally, I caught him off guard. Those dark eyes of his clash with mine, the promise of pain reflecting back at me.
“You bit me.” It’s more of an astonished statement than a question. “You made me bleed.”
I shrug, even as tiny warning bells go off in my mind, telling me that I should be running. The less likely of a challenge I appear to Drew, the more likely he is to walk away.