Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 113699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 568(@200wpm)___ 455(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 568(@200wpm)___ 455(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
At least she didn’t rub it in my face.
Didn’t tell me what a disgrace I was. Didn’t lecture me about how I made her look, us look. She’d let me hold her through her panic attack afterward, her gloved fingers gripping my shirt while I counted breaths with her.
One inhale.
Two exhale.
Three seconds of quiet.
“You didn’t have to fight him,” she whispered against my chest.
I did. The second I saw those hands on her waist, I snapped. Not in the usual way. No, this was different, with a violence that simmered under my skin. More primal.
Mine.
The word echoes in my head as I dry my hands. Three paper towels, just like she would use. Fuck, when did I start adopting her habits? More importantly, when did I stop minding? It doesn’t matter. My thoughts shift to when I dropped her off at home. The way Noah stood like a bulldog on the porch, his arms crossed over his chest, his features mostly blanketed in the dark.
The quiet “thank you” that slipped from Salem’s lips before she ran inside.
I sat in my Jeep counting her steps—one, two, three, four, all the way to twenty-seven. I waited until she was safely tucked inside before pulling away from the curb.
“Fuck,” I mutter to myself. The guy in the mirror looks wrecked—hair wild from Salem’s fingers running through it while we danced, a busted lip, and eyes a little wild from too much vodka and not enough control. I’ve been with women before. Not many and never seriously—always preferring men for anything beyond basic experimentation. If only to punish my family for their bigotry. Salem, though … she’s different. I’ve never been so drawn to a woman before. Never wanted to simultaneously protect and possess someone like this.
The Mill is quiet tonight, as it typically is. Summer is here, classes are mostly done, and everyone is enjoying their time away from school, hanging out with friends and family and getting ready for the next chapter of their life. Not me. I’ve come to enjoy the quiet, and I made peace with being alone. I’m used to it now.
Drew’s got Bel, and Seb has Elyse and a fucking baby that will be here any day now. All my friends, minus Aries, are maturing, finding their soulmates, and living happily ever after.
My phone buzzes.
Salem: Did you ice your hand?
Salem: Three times, ten minutes each.
Me: Yes, Dr. Salem. *insert saluting emoji*
Salem: I’m serious.
Me: I know. I’m counting the minutes.
Salem: Good, you better be or you’re getting a spanking next time.
This strange warmth unfurls in my chest.
She’s worried about me. Counting for me. Thinking about me.
My lips twist up into a smile. I’m so fucked. We just started fake dating, but that’s the last thing I want us to be. I’ve spent my entire life pretending, and for once, I don’t want to do that anymore. With Salem, I don’t have to pretend.
Except that’s exactly what we’re doing—pretending.
The bathroom door creaks in greeting, and I expect Drew to be there, ready to lecture me for fighting in public again. But it’s not him; it’s Aries who leans against the doorframe with an odd look on his face.
“Quite a show tonight, Sterling.”
I shrug, turning back to examine my knuckles. Nothing I haven’t dealt with before. Fighting is the only way to get the chaos in my head to shut up sometimes. Fighting, bourbon, and sex. Which … that actually sounds like the perfect fucking night.
“What the hell? You were there? Why didn’t you come say hi? I didn’t see you.”
“A few guys from the team wanted to hang out, so I took them up on the offer. I was going to come over but thought better of it. Didn’t want to interrupt you. Will say I’ve never seen you so protective before.” He moves closer, his reflection appearing behind mine in the mirror. “But especially not over a woman.” His voice sounds strange, and I don’t know if it’s the way he’s acting or the topic of discussion that’s got me wanting to count exit routes instead of bruises.
“Salem’s different,” I speak carefully, watching his reflection.
“Is she?” He’s way too close now. I can smell the vodka on his breath. “Or are you just playing a very convincing game?”
I grip the sink edge, forcing myself to remain still. To count my breaths like Salem taught me.
One reason to step back: He’s drunk.
Two reasons to worry: He’s acting strange.
Three seconds to decide: How much truth to tell.
But then my gaze catches on my bruised knuckles, and I remember the way Salem felt cradled in my arms, our bodies swaying together as we danced.
Nothing about this is a game.
“Come on, Lee,” he presses.
I blink and am back inside the bathroom. Aries is closer now, his broad linebacker frame crowding me. The air is heavy and thick. Something is off.