Total pages in book: 146
Estimated words: 147801 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 739(@200wpm)___ 591(@250wpm)___ 493(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 147801 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 739(@200wpm)___ 591(@250wpm)___ 493(@300wpm)
“Have you lived there?”
“Not for long.”
“Because you chose to live with your dad?”
“How do you know that?”
Fuck. Shit.
I got that from Nadine. He shouldn’t know I hired a PI to stalk him for me.
“Rachel mentioned it,” I say with a shrug. “Why did you choose your dad over your moms?”
He stills, his gaze getting lost in the distance. “Sometimes the choice is made for you.”
“In what sense?”
“Like when I gave you no way out. You don’t have a choice in being with me, baby.”
“I can still choose to stab you. Don’t test me.”
He chuckles. “Always a little menace, Carson.”
“Why do you call me that?” My eyes widen. “Do you even know my first name?”
“Of course I do.”
“Then say it.”
He remains quiet and I narrow my eyes. “You really don’t!”
“Gareth Carson, son of Asher and Reina Carson. The older brother of Killian Carson. Grandson of Alexander Carson. Is that enough for you?”
“You didn’t have to go full stalker mode.”
He strokes the rim of his glasses, his long fingers sliding up and down, and it’s so distracting, I barely hear him. “Do you like being a Carson?”
“I guess. I like being born into my family.”
“Of course you do.” He scoffs, the sound so unlike him, it makes me frown.
But I can’t read him, because he slowly stands, takes his newspaper and the glasses, then retrieves his briefcase.
“You’re leaving for school this early?” I ask.
“Unlike some students with supercars, I’m walking.”
“You can just get a car. Surely you can afford it.” I swallow the last bit of strawberry and stand up. “I can drive you if you ask nicely.”
“I prefer to walk.”
“Whatever, not that I was dying to drive you.”
“Suits us both then. Great.”
“Awesome.”
He puts on his coat and scarf, and then he’s out the door before I can call him names.
Hope he breaks his legs on his walk.
Why was I trying to do something nice for him anyway? As if I wanted to take care of him or something equally ridiculous.
Fuck him.
21
GARETH
Turns out, he ended up being the one fucking me.
Ten times since that first night.
It’s been over two weeks now.
My hopes for this entire illogical and dangerous infatuation to go away have significantly diminished.
Because I keep showing up at his place. I tried keeping a distance, but then I’ll start obsessing about him bringing home other people—namely fucking Jessica—and I’ll go over there in the middle of the night, armed with a new Taser and knife.
Kayden keeps confiscating them, and I keep getting new ones.
Truth is, he’s never given me a reason to believe he’s with Jessica or anyone else but me. That still hasn’t put my mind at ease, though.
My obsessive mind that I barely recognize anymore is spiraling.
“Never get obsessed again, son. Don’t get caught.”
Those words that have been my mantra for six years are dissolving with every touch, every encounter, and every mind-blowing orgasm.
I know I should take a step back, because, holy fuck, this is new.
I didn’t know I could be this hyperfixated on a person, so caught in a lethal halo of hateful limerence until it becomes a noose that’s getting tighter around my throat with each passing day.
Because I know I shouldn’t have him, and, in retrospect, I won’t be able to keep him.
This physical thing, as gratifying as it feels, is only surface level. I mean, not really, because this type of sexual connection feels like it transcends my body sometimes.
But it’s still a phase, and all phases come to an end.
And then what?
That’s all I keep thinking about. The after.
Not so much the now, but the after.
And I don’t like that, because it’s making this feel deeper than it should.
I’ve had sex before, plenty of it, but it’s never felt like this. Intense and mind-stimulating and capable of putting me in a loop I can’t leave.
The type of sex during and after which I just exist in that peaceful quiet of that white room.
It’s addictive but also dangerous.
Because, despite his warnings and authoritative orders, I can’t stop the impulsive thoughts.
Seeing girls and some professors flirting with him on campus is driving me insane. The fact that I can’t go there and pull him toward me by the throat and announce ownership is making me even more irritable.
I’m the one who refuses to come out, but even if I did, this is still a forbidden relationship. A professor isn’t supposed to fuck his student, and if this is found out, he could be fired, so we can only be a secret. I know that, I do, and yet I hate anyone’s claws on him. Not that he indulges, but he still needs to stop being so fucking polite about it.
Three days ago, I saw him talking to Yulian on campus and smiling casually as that slimy fucker put his hands on him.
I haven’t answered his texts or gone to his place since.