Page 121 of Running from Drac

Mom’s hand flies to her mouth. Rich is already on his feet.

“I’m going,” I say, grabbing my keys.

Dad blocks the door. “We should call the police—”

“You call them. I’ll get there faster.”

My phone buzzes in my hand. Still no word from Amber.

One woman won’t answer. The other might not be alive in an hour.

And I’m the reason for both.

Chapter Thirty-One

Amber

The bottle’s already half empty by the time I get to the casino. By the third floor, it’s practically gone. The second the doors open and the elevator dings, I’m chucking the whole bottle of tequila into the trash, and wiping the remnants onto the shitty pair of jeans and faded T-shirt I threw on before I got here.

I couldn’t get my wedding dress off fast enough, the urge to burn it in a fiery trashcan of oblivion impeding my thoughts. I settled for throwing the wretched thing into the recesses of my closet, hoping like hell I’ll never see the damn thing again.

Adrenaline surges through my veins as I place the key against the door, hand fitting around the handle with more hesitation than there should be. There was a time where I would’ve had second thoughts about coming here, but not now. Not when Ryder is the key to erasing it all from memory.

With him, I can forget about Eddie and that fuckingconniving bitch Pippa. Why dwell on the things that are hurting me? Not when I can forget. Not when my cure is sitting on the other side of this door waiting for me.

Ryder’s the drug my body craves, the kerosine to ignite this throbbing desire pumping through me. Unlike Eddie, Ryder fucking wants me. Only me, might I add. And that’s what I need right now… a man who’s only focused on me.

If I don’t turn this knob, I’ll shatter, the fragments already forming. Right now, I’m barely hanging on. If I go home, I’ll just have to face everything all over again. The bitter sting of their betrayal, searching each of their faces for a remorse I know won’t be there. If either of them cared, it would never have happened. Never.

Tears prick my eyes, knowing how I’m stuffing down my true emotions, covering them with a gallon of alcohol and a man that can make me whole with just his touch alone.

A tremor takes over my hand as I turn the handle, my heart thundering like vicious drums as the door slowly creaks open, and I take that first nervous step inside.

Do I really want to do this?

Is this really the answer to everything going on in my head right now?

I’m not in love with Ryder. Far from it.

There’s an attraction to him I can’t quite contain, a lust so hungry that I practically ache to feel him inside me once again.

Is it right to use him like I want to? To discard him and throw him away when I am done taking out all my pent-up frustration, before shattering afterwards into a wilted ball of tears and pain?

All those questions melt away when the door closes behind me, and I find him topless, those muscles rippling into hard curves as he lies on the bed flicking through channels on the TV.

My breath hitches when he turns his head. It’s slow at first, but his smile widens, eyes brightening and sparkling in the low light of the room. When that single dimple appears, I’m done for; everything in me knows there’s no turning back now.

He stands up as I rush towards him, throwing myself into his arms, ready to devour him whole.

His arms curl around me, comforting me, protecting me with their silent strength.

Fingertips brush over my cheeks, soaking the tears into his faded prints as he looks down at me with nothing but adoration. “I knew ya’d come.”

I don’t want to talk; I just want him to take me.

“I need you, Ryder. Fuck me. Fuck me harder than you’ve ever fucked a woman.” His eyes widen for a split second before my lips crash desperately onto his, wishing for release, for someone to alleviate the tormented hell my mind is spinning in.

He melts into me, grip tightening as he fights to speak. Every time he opens his mouth, I silence him.