Total pages in book: 185
Estimated words: 175455 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 877(@200wpm)___ 702(@250wpm)___ 585(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 175455 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 877(@200wpm)___ 702(@250wpm)___ 585(@300wpm)
“Zoey, don’t be rude,” my mother admonishes, frowning mildly at me.
I feel my face flush, wondering how rude she’d think he was if she knew he sexually assaulted me yesterday and has the nerve to barge into my home—a place I should be able to feel safe—today. Looking up at Carter, I say calmly, “You should go.”
“All right,” Carter says, nodding, holding my gaze. “Walk me out to my car?”
I open my mouth to say no, but my mother is already rushing forward, glaring at me in confused disapproval. “Of course she’ll walk you to your car. She’s not normally like this, she really must not be feelin’ good,” she adds, bringing the back of her hand to rest against my forehead.
“Mom, stop,” I mutter, swatting her hand away.
Carter smirks faintly, but catches himself, since he’s pretending to be charming right now. “I won’t keep her long,” he promises.
“You take as long as you want,” my mom says, shooting me another look of admonishment.
I’m so angry, I could explode. I definitely don’t want to be alone with him, but I don’t think he’ll do anything horrible to me in the driveway with my family waiting inside. Just in case, as I resentfully walk toward the front door, I warn him, “My step-father will be pulling in any minute, so yeah, you probably want to leave before you get trapped in the driveway.”
“Yeah. Being trapped is no fun, is it, princess?” he murmurs, following behind me.
Unease creeps down my spine. “Stop calling me that.”
“I’ll get right on that, princess,” he mocks.
“Was that fun for you?” I demand, wanting to know what possible reason he could have for whatever that was.
Shrugging, he says, “Kinda. I like playing with you.”
My jaw locks and I try to breathe without expelling fire. “Why did you come here?” I ask, pulling the front door closed behind us.
Since we’re alone now, he doesn’t bother feigning his golden boy bullshit. “I brought you soup,” he says, amusement clear in his tone.
“Is it roofie soup?”
“Of course not,” he says dismissively. “I wouldn’t roofie you. You’re no good to me unconscious. I like mentally and physically stripping away your will. A pill is cheating.”
“You’re sick,” I inform him.
He shrugs, apparently unconcerned. “Why don’t you want to go to dinner with me?”
Eyes wide, I stare at him. “Is that a serious question? Did you hear all the words that just came out of your mouth? Also: you sexually assaulted me yesterday.”
Hissing apologetically through his teeth, he says, “Hope you’re not planning to tell anyone about that. I mean, you just accused Jake of the same thing, and your mom even knows we’re a thing now. Seems like you just like throwing around accusations, doesn’t it? Maybe you like the attention.”
If he thinks I’m interested in playing this game with him when we don’t have an audience, he is seriously mistaken. “Whatever, Carter.”
I stop in front of his car—a pricey, deep red Mustang with two black stripes running down the center. It looks like something a spoiled asshole would drive, so of course this is his car.
“Here’s the thing,” he tells me, opening his driver’s side door and tossing his gym bag inside. Then he closes the door and leans against it, shoving his hands into the pockets of his gray sweats. “Remember yesterday I said I’m not a tit man? I’m not, but I can’t stop thinking about yours.”
Shaking my head as I look off at the street to avoid looking at him, I say, “That’s… I honestly don’t even know how to respond to that.”
“I suggest lifting your shirt and giving me a peek,” he offers.
“Suggestion denied.”
He shrugs. “It was worth a shot. So, dinner.”
Is he for real right now? “You can’t seriously think there is even a sliver of a chance I’m gonna willingly take my clothes off for you, ever. After what you did to me yesterday, you should spend the football season wearin’ an orange jumpsuit and afraid to bend over in the shower to pick up the soap. I told you I wouldn’t tell anyone, and I won’t, but I thought it went without saying that I wanted you to leave me alone going forward. You are legitimately insane if you are seriously askin’ me on a date. Not if you were the last man on Earth. There’s no way you thought this would work.”
“I’m giving you an opportunity to say yes this time,” he informs me, like it’s quite the boon.
“An opportunity. How considerate of you,” I deadpan. “And I’m saying no,” I add, immovably.
“I can work with that, too.” Pushing off the car, he grabs my arm and yanks me against him.
My heart stalls, then hammers hard in my chest. I try to pull back, but he gets his arms locked around me, trapping me against his hard body like he did yesterday. “Get off me,” I tell him lowly, struggling to get free, but he’s too strong.