Page 76 of A Wreck, You Make Me (Bad Boys of Bardstown #3)

“You just started college, didn’t you? I know it’s only a couple of courses right now.

But you’ll probably go full time next semester.

Maybe you’ll want to finish your degree.

Or maybe you’ll go places. Places you don’t even know.

You’ll do things you don’t even know, you haven’t even thought of.

The world is yours, Jupiter. Yours for the taking.

You’re just learning to dream and dance and fly.

So you should be worried about my cum flooding your cunt.

Flooding your womb. You should be worried about my cum taking root and giving you something you didn’t ask for. And tying you the fuck down.”

My eyes pop open then as I go still.

He notices and goes, “Yeah, you get it now, don’t you.”

I stare at the tiled wall. I stare at the steam rising from the shower. I notice the slight chip on the wall where the tile ends and the paint begins. Then, “But I’m… I’m on birth control.”

It’s his turn to go still. I can feel it.

I can feel the way he’s holding me. His fingers around my throat lose some of their tightness and his hand on my pussy stops altogether.

I grasp his arms, one with each hand and continue, “I went on it when I was fourteen. I went with my friend Meadow and her mom to get the prescription.”

And I’ve been religious about taking it too.

I mean, I had Snow. I had to take care of her.

I had to get her out of that hellhole where we lived and give her a stable home.

I couldn’t afford unwanted pregnancies. And given my job at the club and where we used to live…

I mean, who knows, right? Girls need to be so careful.

Girls need to protect themselves because the world always, without fail, fails to do so.

And I also understand the other repercussions of unprotected sex.

But they didn’t factor, because I was a virgin so I didn’t have any diseases and he’s an athlete who gets tested regularly.

And while I knew he was having a ton of sex before he saw me at the club, I know it in my bones that he never would’ve put me in jeopardy, if he knew there was even a remote chance of me getting hurt.

So this whole conversation is completely moot and I don’t know why…

Wait a second. Wait .

My heart slams in my chest when it becomes clear. When I finally, for the love of God, put everything together because my mind has cleared from all the crazy orgasms he gives me. All the crazy things he does to me with his words, his body, his fucking… snake heart .

I spin around in his arms, and he lets me. Which is good, because I would’ve screamed his roof off and then Snow and everyone else would know what we were doing up here. What he, my stepbrother, is doing to me, his stepsister.

“Is that why…” I begin, my chest heaving, shuddering. “Is that why you’ve been coming inside of me? Is that why you… won’t come anywhere else? You’ve been shoving your… Because you thought we were having unprotected sex and you…”

I’m so mad I can’t even speak. I can’t even look at him right now.

I can’t … So I shove at him and he lets me do that too as I practically scream in his impassive, expressionless face, “God, Shepard! Do you know how twisted that is? How toxic ? This is worse than the phone thing. This is worse than anything you’ve ever done.

It’s not even toxic. I don’t even know what to call it.

I don’t… You’re… I can’t… So what did you think I was going to be?

Your side-piece with your bastard child that?—”

“Don’t call it that,” he snaps. “Don’t you dare call it that.”

“But that’s what?—”

“I would’ve given it everything. I would’ve given you everything.”

“Except love, of course.”

“Love is fucking overrated, all right? I know.” I open my mouth to argue but he doesn’t let me. “You call me toxic, don’ you? Well, your precious love is even more toxic than me. So basically, I’m doing you a fucking favor.”

I shake my head at him. “I’m done with you. I’m really fucking done with you this time. I can’t do this. You’re too… You’re too insane. You’re sick. That’s what you are. That’s?—”

This is when he charges at me with narrowed eyes and crowds me against the tiled wall.

He cages me with his hands, splayed wide by my head, and I can feel his big, hard and throbbing dick brushing my ribcage.

I want to reach down and twist it to teach him a lesson.

I want to knee him in the fucking junk again. Punch him, scratch him, shake him.

And demand to know why he looks so fucking disappointed at the knowledge that we’ve been using protection all this time.

Although I don’t think disappointment is the right word.

Why the fuck does he look angry about it?

No, it’s not even that. I think he looks…

heartbroken. His eyes are flashing but have a tortured quality to them, pained.

His mouth is tight, but again, somehow this tightness is different.

It’s from the pain, the grit of his jaw.

And his breaths, though wild like when he’s angry, have a slight rattle to them.

“Well now you know,” he growls, shoving his chest into mine.

“You need to be more worried about yourself. You need to be more worried about the kind of man you’ve let into your bed, in between your thighs, in your fucking cunt.

And what lengths he’ll go to, to keep fucking that cunt.

To keep you. Because finally, fucking finally , I’ve got you.

I’ve caught you in my arms, in my clutches, and you’re not going anywhere.

I won’t let you. I won’t let anyone else have you.

You ran from me last night too, remember?

You fucking blocked me because you thought we were done and I never said a word because I knew you were upset.

But last night’s the only time I’ll let it pass.

“Because if you try to run from me again, I’ll fucking tie you to my bed.

I’ll tie you to myself. I’ll lock you inside my room where only I have access to you.

I’ll blackmail the fuck out of you. I’ll make a hundred fucking naked videos of you, put them up online so you have nowhere to turn but me.

I’ll fucking ruin you for every other man in this world, if you even think about being done with me.

You thought I chased you before, I’ll fucking suffocate your world with my presence so you see nothing but me.

“So again, you need to be more worried about yourself than me and my game and what or who I don’t talk about.

Because why the fuck would I talk about her when I am with you ?

Why the fuck does she exist when I’m breathing your air?

When you’re letting me breathe your air, when you’re letting me inside your tight, sweet little body.

When I know, when I’ve seen how sad you’d get, how miserable and fucking heartbroken every time I brought her around.

When I’ve seen you leave the room to get air because you couldn’t see me put my ring on her finger. ”

He clenches his teeth then, breathes through his nose as if saying these words are so painful to him, that these words are breaking his heart when he was the one who did those things and broke mine.

Then, “Why the fuck would I talk about her after I’ve gotten down on one knee for her when I shouldn’t have? And never in front of you.”

With that, he’s done. He moves away from me.

He steps back, gives me a last look, water sliding down his hair, his eyelashes, dripping down his cut body, falling off his hard cock that’s stuck to his abdomen and gets out of the shower.

He sheds water from his tall body, leaving a trail of it behind as he steps out into his bedroom.

I hate it. I hate when people leave messy puddles on bathroom floors, even though I’m not the cleanest person in the world.

But right about now, I don’t care. I don’t even care that I’m going to be the one to do that too as I take off after him, naked and dripping, leaving the shower on; another pet peeve of mine, wasting water when you’re already struggling to pay your water bill.

I care about nothing but catching up to the man who just completely turned my word upside down.

Who just told me he was not only tricking me into getting pregnant—in his head—so I can never leave him even though he will leave me one day.

He didn’t say that, but isn’t that implied ?

I mean, he’s in love with someone else. He’s using me to get over her.

But at the same time, he also knows how heartbroken I am over the fact that he loves someone else.

So much so that he won’t even bring her up in front of me.

He has to be, hands down , the most twisted, the most toxic and the most wonderful man I’ve ever met.

So I not only catch up to him as he’s reaching the foot of the bed, I tackle him from behind.

I crash into him like I did the night he took my virginity and following the same move, I round him and climb his fucking body, making him grunt in surprise.

And because I’m acting like a crazy person, naked tackling the man I’m in love with, he grabs me around the waist, plasters me to his own bare body so I don’t hurt myself.

Then, I don’t know who makes the first move—did I pull him, or did he push us both?—but we’re both falling on the bed and he’s panting over me, growling, “What the fuck is your problem?”

I wind my arms and my thighs around him and snap, “You. You’re my problem.”

He clenches his teeth and brings his weight down on me even more, pinning me to the bed. “Why can’t there be a single. Fucking. Goddamn moment of peace with you?”

“You—”

“You wanna talk, we’ll talk. We’ll fucking talk until we’re both blue in the face. But some things are fucking off limits, do you understand?”

I glare up at him. “I don’t want to talk anymore.”

“Thank fucking God for that.”

“I want to do other things.”

“Yeah, what things?”

I look at his wet lips and lick droplets off mine.

His dick lurches on my belly, telling me he saw that, telling me he understands what it means.

Then, looking up, I tell him, “You could never put my naked videos up on the internet. You’re too possessive of me.

You could never let anyone look at me like that. You’d kill them first.”

His eyes flash with it, with possessiveness, with animalistic need for me and burning lust. And before his mouth comes down on me, he growls, “Damn right I will.”