Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 76812 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76812 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Maybe tonight she won't wake up screaming.
Chapter 24
Brielle
It's been a month since I washed Xan's blood from my body, a month since Nathan vowed his retribution.
That's a very long time in a world that consists of just hanging out and watching TV. I haven't left the clubhouse other than to sit by the pool and look up at the stars a handful of times. I haven't had the urge.
Beck holds me every night, and when I'm in his arms, I can let myself get lost in the idea that I'm safe and protected. The fleeting hope is usually shadowed by those whispers in the back of my head that keep reminding me that I'm unlovable, not that Beck has even hinted at feeling that way about me.
We only talk in the darkness, when the moon is the only light witnessing our words, and by talk I mean I make confessions and he listens.
It was so painful at first, to confess my flaws, but after a while, it grew to be cathartic, and I ache through the day, thinking of the things I could whisper when the sun finally went down.
But tonight feels different. There's another ache inside of me, one that has built since the night he used his mouth on me.
He hasn't made any moves since then despite our closeness and the way he presses into me when he's asleep.
In the beginning, it felt like he was giving me space, like he wanted me to know that I meant more to him than anything sexual, but as time passes, it's really starting to give me a complex.
"Beck," I whisper.
He jolts, telling me that he is either right on the cusp of sleep or he has already passed out.
"Hmm?" He pulls me closer, something he does numerous times a night as if he doesn't want an inch of space between us.
However, it's contradictory to those actions.
"I was thinking," I say, my hand running down his chest, hating that he's wearing a shirt.
I'm a little obsessed when I can catch him before he puts one on in the evening and tug him into the bed without it. The contact drives me crazy.
I pull up the hem of his shirt, and smile in the darkness when his heart kicks up a notch under my ear.
I run my finger along the hot skin just above the waistband of his sweats, hating the darkness a little right now even though it's what's giving me the courage to touch him. I want to watch him grow under the fabric of his clothes. I want to see how his body responds to me because his lack of this type of attention is beginning to give me a complex.
"You were thinking?" he prods.
Asking him for what I need is difficult, make that impossible, I discover when I open my mouth and nothing comes out.
Rather than turn into a coward and pull away, I run my hand over his cock, a thrill of excitement making me want to squeeze my thighs together when I discover him fully hard.
He groans, his hips lifting upward to increase the pressure of my hand, but a second later, his hand is covering mine, to pull it from him not to press it harder.
I fight the burn of tears behind my eyes. I think his rejection might hurt worse than if he slapped me across the face.
"Should we talk first?" he asks, his voice husky and full of need despite his actions.
"I'm not really interested in talking right now," I say, wincing when my words come out tinged with the annoyance I feel.
It isn't fair to get upset if he doesn't want me. Those are traits I'm sure are left over from the time I lived with Nathan and Xan. They were always so quick to take things that weren't even offered that no never really crossed my mind.
I try to pull away, but he only tightens his hold around my back, refusing to let me slink away.
"I don't want you doing something because you feel like you owe me," he says. "And this morning--"
"This isn't about that," I quickly interject before he could mention the new clothes he brought me after hearing me complain about my clothes getting a little tighter since I'm eating three meals a day with him rather than avoiding the kitchen like I did a lot of time at the shelter.
"Then what is it about?"
I know he wants the words, but I could never ask him for such things out loud.
Nathan made me beg for things I didn't want so now doing the same thing for something I'm desperate for is ruined.
"This," I tell him, gripping the back of his hand and running it down my body.
I slip our combined hands behind the waistband of my leggings, making sure his fingers glide through the desire I have for him.