Page 51 of A Wreck, You Make Me (Bad Boys of Bardstown #3)

For a few long moments, he doesn’t say anything.

He simply watches me with an impassive but an unforgivable expression and I don’t know what to think.

I realize I’m still holding the money out to him, so I lower my arm and put the cash back in my pocket because I already know he’s not going to take it. No matter what.

And it’s as if he was waiting for me to realize that, that no, he’s not going to take the money back, because as soon I do put it in my pocket, he moves.

First, he throws the crushed bottle away and the crinkling sound of it falling makes me wince.

Then he closes the rest of the distance between us and while I’ve been closer to him than this, I’ve literally been wrapped around his body in the past, this somehow feels closer.

This somehow feels more intimate, his bare chest inches away from me.

His heat burning me, his sharp eyes cutting the muscle of my heart.

The scent of his musk and sweat and strawberries.

God, always strawberries. And that spot on his neck.

Where I bit him weeks ago. Foolishly, I search for my mark even though it’s impossible for my bite to survive this many days.

Then, putting his hand on the wall and leaning down, he says, his voice low and rough, “You wanna find a way to co-exist with me? Don’t wave the cash I gave you in my face, asking me to take it back, when you know it’s only going to piss me off.

That’s rule number one. Rule number two: You don’t tell me what to do.

I tell you what to do. And you do it without thought or question.

Meaning, you’ll go to college. You’ll explore your options.

Because you’re phenomenal. But then again, that’s not all you are, are you?

You’re fucking unforgettable. Every time I think about the way you danced for me, moved your body, twisted your hips in my lap, my fucking heart skips a beat.

There’s a goddamn tug on my heartstrings like you’re pulling at ’em just so you could make music and dance to it.

And so you’ll go, and you’ll see what’s out there and whether this is what you want to do with your life.

And that’s all the discussion we’ll have about that. ”

I open my mouth to say something, anything , but he keeps going, leaning even further down, his features going even harder.

“Rule number three: stay out of my way. You see me walking down the hallway, you fucking turn the other way. In fact, you find the closest door and you lock yourself inside, do you understand? Don’t fucking come to me with your big, green-as-fuck eyes and tell me you wanna help me.

You wanna ease my pain. You wanna be my fucking friend.

Because I don’t want to be your friend. I wanna bite you.

I wanna spread your fucking legs and go so far up inside your body that even you can’t get me out.

And I don’t think you want that. Because I’m not just your toxic asshole anymore.

I’m your toxic asshole stepbrother and you want to do the right thing by staying away from me.

” Then, he adds, “And go put some fucking clothes on, for fuck’s sake. ”

With that, he moves away and begins to head down the hallway.

I look down at myself to remember what I’m wearing.

A pink camisole with lace around my neck and matching pajamas.

It’s what I usually wear while in bed. It’s what he probably already saw me in, while he’d sneak into my bedroom.

Not to mention he’s seen me in much less.

God, he’s seen me naked . He has a video of me naked.

That he never said if he was going to delete or not.

Although I could guess from his reaction that he wasn’t going to.

I don’t care about any of those things though.

I don’t care about what he said or that he’s leaving me here, a mess of feelings and breaths.

I call out, “It was nine years ago.” He pauses just at the door that leads to the backyard.

“That’s when I saw you for the first time.

I snuck out of my house and took the bus to yours.

I came over to tell you who I was. But then I saw you through the window of your bedroom, the one that I’m staying in, and I realized I couldn’t stop watching you. ”

His back tenses and I can see him fisting his hands at his sides, and I keep going.

“I spent that night watching you kick the soccer ball in your backyard, and I’ve been watching you ever since.

Watching you and somehow avoiding you at the same time for nine years.

A hell of a lot longer than a year. You said you could teach me things about obsession and maybe you can.

But I’ll always have you beat in the time department.

My obsession started way before yours ever did. ”

And will go on way after your ends because love doesn’t end.

His head hangs forward then, toward the floor, as I finish.

I’m not sure why I told him this when I said I wanted a fresh start. All I know is he wanted me to. Somehow, I felt like he needed to hear it. I know he didn’t ask the question, but I felt like he wanted to know the answer anyway. Maybe I’m being delusional, but I don’t think so.

In any case, it doesn’t matter. Because after a few seconds he resumes walking and goes out the door, slamming it in his wake. Hard.