Page 27 of Don’t Say You’re Sorry (Hawthorne University #2)

ADAM

I step out of the bathroom, toweling off my wet hair, my bare feet soft against the bedroom floor. When I look up and see someone sprawled on my bed, I nearly jump out of my skin. “Fuck! Easton,” I hiss. “You scared the shit out of me.”

He says nothing. Doesn’t comment on my nakedness or the fact that I don’t bother to cover myself up.

Stepping closer to him, I check him from head to toe, searching for injuries.

Physically, he’s okay as far as I can tell.

He’s been gone for two days, and they were quite possibly the longest two days of my life.

The only reason I know he wasn’t kidnapped in the middle of the night on Friday is because he texted Nate yesterday morning. Just two words.

I’m fine.

Well, I wasn’t fine. I know I have no right to be angry with him, and I’m the biggest hypocrite on the planet, but at least he knew where I was going when I left him.

At least he knew I was safe. He left me without a fucking word.

I was going to report him as a missing person today.

Even after Nate told me about his bullshit text that did nothing to put me at ease.

If anything, it just made me feel worse.

Why text Nate and not me? Did he not realize I’d be worried sick about him?

“Aren’t you going to say anything?” I demand. “Where the bloody hell have you been?”

He doesn’t react to my outburst. He doesn’t even flinch. My nostrils flare, and I drop my gaze to his hands, only just realizing he’s playing with the tie I was wearing at our parents’ anniversary party.

My feet move closer to him without my permission, my dick hardening at the sight of its owner and the memories running through my head. “What are you doing with that?” I ask, mesmerized.

His lips twitch at the corners, and his eyes finally meet mine. He slowly looks down the length of my body before lifting his gaze to my face. “London,” he says, answering my first question.

I splutter. “ London ?”

He nods, running my tie through his long, expert fingers. “Your apartment was ugly as fuck. I hated it. Apart from the view. I liked that part.”

I knew he would. That’s the only part I liked about it as well.

I used to sit in the living room and stare out the window, fantasizing about Easton and me riding up to the top of the London Eye.

I used to picture him pulling me onto his lap and kissing me, claiming me and stealing me back, punishing me for what I did, and telling me he’s never letting me out of his sight again.

“Wait, my apartment…?” I shake my head in disbelief, trying to get my thoughts in order. “You went to see Axel?”

“Mhm.”

“Why?”

“I brought him home. He’s waiting for us in the car. We’re going for Sunday dinner.”

I open my mouth, then close it again, once again going through the other night in my head.

I’ve been over it a thousand times already over the last two days.

He showed up at The Hideaway. Told Taylor or Tina I was unavailable .

Tricked me into dancing on the podium. Watched me with his nose flaring as if he wanted to throttle me and devour me at the same time.

Continued watching me all night as I went back to work behind the bar.

Stayed until closing time and waited outside for me for an hour.

He waited for me.

And then…

And then I don’t know.

He forgot my number? Is that why he did a complete one-eighty on me in a matter of seconds?

Because he remembered how much he must have hated me after I left?

Did he delete my number as if I never existed, as if we never existed, and try to forget me?

That doesn’t sound like the Easton I know, but really, what do I know?

I thought for sure he’d call me. I didn’t think he’d let me go that easy. But I was wrong.

“Tell me what you’re thinking right now.”

My head snaps up at the sound of his voice, and I swallow. “I don’t know what to think.”

He nods as if that makes sense. I wish he’d make it make sense for me.

“Easton, why did you go to London?”

“I told you. To bring Axel home.”

“Why?”

He cocks his head at me. “Don’t you know?”

Of course I do, but I want to hear him say it.

As if he can read my mind, he says, “Okay,” and stands, the towel slipping from my loose grip as he uses his body to guide my back to the wall.

The tie he’s holding stretches across the front of my throat, and he gathers the ends in his hand above my head, his fist against the wall. A makeshift noose around my neck.

I can’t breathe. Not because he’s choking me with it, but because he’s sucked all the air out of my lungs. My arms hang limp at my sides, and I tip my head back, submitting to him like a good boy.

His good boy.

Always his.

“Your apartment’s gone, and your brother’s back in Hawthorne,” he says, his lips moving over my jawline.

“If you try to run from me again, you won’t get very far.

I’ll catch you this time,” he whispers in my ear.

“You think your life was miserable before? I’ll show you what it really means to be miserable. Do you hear me?”

“I won’t run,” I vow breathlessly. “Never again.”

He tightens his grip on the tie around my throat, his teeth clamped down on my earlobe.

“Fuck. Yes ,” I moan. “I hear you.”

“Good boy.” He removes his teeth, soothing the spot with his lips and tongue. “I need you to do something for me.”

“Let me touch you and I’ll do anything you want.”

He laughs quietly. “Touch me where?”

“Wherever you’ll let me.”

Taking my left hand, he lifts it up to the back of his neck. I dig my fingers in gratefully, holding him down on my ear, my thigh twitching with the urge to wrap it around his hip. But I don’t push my luck, leaving both feet planted on the floor.

“Tell our parents you’re back for good,” he says, and I nod without really thinking about it.

“Okay. Yes. Why?”

“Because I want you stuck here with me,” he says unremorsefully. “I want it to be really fucking difficult for you to pack up and leave again.”

I already knew that, but it feels good to hear him admit it to me. I know this Easton. I know how to take him, how to talk to him, how to please him, how to drive him insane…

“Did you see my bed?” I ask, tilting my head to allow him better access.

He moves his mouth down to my neck. “Hm?”

“In London. Did you lie on my bed?”

His lips curl into a smile against my racing pulse, and I have my answer.

“One night, I tied myself to the headboard,” I tell him. “Just one wrist. Plug in my ass. Face down. Legs spread. My cock fucking the sheet. I came hands-free pretending you were inside me. I even left a bruise on my hip with my own fingers.”

He growls, pushing his body into mine, his hand grabbing the back of my thigh and pulling it up to his hip. “Where’s the plug?”

Now it’s my turn to smile. Guess he didn’t find it while he was unpacking all my stuff that first night.

“Inside pocket of my suitcase.”

“Is it the one I gave you?”

“Yes,” I say, my cheek against his. “Do you still have yours?”

He nods, his mouth on my neck, his blunt nails scraping up my thigh.

He pulls my ass away from the wall, and my back arches as he teases my hole with his fingers, his pelvis rocking against me.

It’s the first time he’s touched my ass in years, and my body feels like it’s coming back to life, ready and eager for him.

The fabric of his jeans is rough against my dick, and the fingers he’s rubbing me with are dry, but I love it. I love the way he drives me insane.

“Have you come yet?” he asks, rubbing himself on my dick with purpose.

“No. I’m saving it for you like you told me to.”

“So good for me,” he praises, rewarding me by spitting on his fingers.

He chokes me with the tie as he rubs my hole again, and I moan loudly in his ear, my nails digging into the back of his neck.

I don’t let go, and I don’t do anything to muffle the sounds either.

If he wanted me to be quiet for his friends’ sakes, he’d shove something in my mouth to shut me up. I love the fact he doesn’t.

“Give me a little bit,” he demands. “Just a taste.”

My dick throbs and leaks for him, and he drops to his knees, my leg hooked over his shoulder, his finger fucking my ass, his mouth sucking the precum from the head of my cock.

I let out a hoarse shout, my fingers tangling in his hair. “Oh, fuck, Easton.”

“Just enough for a taste,” he warns, his eyes on mine. “If you come, I’ll fuck you, plug you, and make you sit at the dinner table with your ass full of my cum in front of our parents and your brother. And I’ll make sure they fucking know about it.”

I whimper. I almost let myself come just to see if he’ll go through with it, but I don’t. I mean, I’m stupid when it comes to him, but not that stupid.

Flattening my palm on his forehead, it takes every ounce of willpower I have to push him away. He stands, sucking my taste off his fingers smugly. I lean against the wall, breathless, trembling, and needy as fuck. My dick is hard as a rock, pointing straight at him, dripping precum on the floor.

“Get dressed,” he says. “We’re leaving in ten minutes.”

“Your dad’s going to be pissed,” I warn.

Taking the tie from around my neck, he stuffs it into his pocket. “You let me worry about my dad, okay?”

“Okay.”

And then he’s gone.

With my fucking tie.