Series: Torn and Bound Duet Series by K. Webster
Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 77415 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77415 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
His eyes close momentarily, as if he’s trying to get control of his emotions. His tongue darts out, running along the seam of his lips. And before I can think about what I’m doing, my mouth is crashing against his. His lips are firm yet also soft in their own way. Just like they were the last time I felt them against my own.
Time slows to a stop.
Like the last few seconds of a championship game, it’s over in an instant.
And then he shoves me away, ending the kiss before it even began.
“What the hell,” he hisses, his eyes filled with a myriad of emotions: hurt, shock, and if I’m not mistaken, lust. “This”—he waggles his finger between us—“is not part of our truce.”
He skates off the rink and I stay where I am, trying to figure out what the hell I was thinking.
Truce?
Yeah, fucking right.
Our truce lasted all of three seconds until he pressed his lips to mine, starting a war.
I’m so pissed at him, I can’t even see straight. Yesterday, after he pulled that shit on me at the rink, I went back to my dorm room and paced all evening until I ran my roommate off. I’d wanted so badly to march over to Drew’s apartment and tell him off.
Again.
What’s there to say, though?
Instead, I attempted to study until I was bleary-eyed and the anger that flowed through my veins finally cooled. Today, I just feel tired.
Tired of Drew.
Tired of the way he makes me so furious.
Tired of the past always dictating my life.
This morning’s practice reflected just that. He was relentless, too. Riding my ass the whole time, bitching at me to skate harder, move faster, and pay attention. I’d wanted to kill him, but for the team, I managed to bite my tongue.
“You okay?” Finn asks, dragging me from my thoughts. “You kind of played like shit earlier.”
I flip him off. “Tell me how you really feel.”
“You know I love you,” he states, laughing. “Whatever it is, you gotta get over it, man. Do some fucking yoga or get laid.”
Thoughts of Mia come to mind, which has me smiling. “I’ll try.”
“The yoga or the sex?”
“Can’t it be both?” I playfully shoulder check Finn on my way out of the locker room. “See ya later.”
I’m rushing down the hallway to avoid a run-in with Drew when I do exactly that.
Run into him.
We both grunt in surprise, and I jolt back, hating the fire that’s once again burning angrily through me.
“Bray,” he starts, but I shake my head as I pass by him. “We need to talk eventually.”
“Talking with you always ends badly.”
His hand clasps over my shoulder, stopping me. “Please…”
“I’m late. Maybe later.”
He releases me without a word and I haul ass out of there. Rather than head out to the parking lot where I know other guys will already be hanging out, I take a different turn, winding my way through the athletic buildings. I’m about to turn around and head back the way I came when a guy enters through a side door.
A familiar guy.
Mia’s best friend.
There’s something about Ashton that rubs me. His maddening smirks. The arrogance that practically drips from him. All his snide-ass remarks.
And Mia? She just laughs.
When we’d all gone out last weekend after the game, I watched their interaction with jealous interest. There was a time Drew and I ribbed each other the way they did. Laughed at each other’s jokes. Had whole conversations with just our eyes.
The way he stared at her…
I know he’s gay, but that night I caught him staring at her like he fucking forgot that fact.
He’s wearing a thin zip-up hoodie and stops just inside the door to dust snow out of his hair. His bag starts to slide off his shoulder. With a grunt, he pulls it back up and then strolls over to another doorway.
I don’t know what compels me to follow him, but I do.
Every time I’ve seen him, he acts like he doesn’t give two shits about anything or anyone but Mia. I haven’t really seen him without her company.
I’m surprised to see him enter an Olympic-sized indoor pool area. He drops his bag onto the bleachers near one end of the pool. I walk along the perimeter of the pool that’s already splashing with swimmers, and make my way closer. He kicks off his Doc Martens and then unzips his hoodie. In a way, I feel like a creep watching him, but I’m curious about what makes him so special. Mia clearly adores him.
Someone calls out to him from the water and he gives them one of his douche-y head nods like he’s the coolest motherfucker at this school, and then peels off his jacket. After he tosses it, he reaches behind his head to grab the fabric of his T-shirt.