Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 127712 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 639(@200wpm)___ 511(@250wpm)___ 426(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127712 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 639(@200wpm)___ 511(@250wpm)___ 426(@300wpm)
I let out a sigh. Because this is not my wheelhouse. Not my world. And it sounds… well… tiring.
“If you’re worried about the project, I can help you with that.”
“How?”
“I have an IQ of one eighty-five as well.”
I actually chuckle. “Is that so?”
“It is. We’re practically the same man. I mean, look at us, Locke. Handsome, tall, dark.”
I’m looking at his lips as he talks.
“I’ve been watching you for about a year now. Since you came here.” He pauses. Smirks at me. “This last time, anyway.”
“Is that a dig on my criminal history?” I’ve been in this juvenile facility so many times now, I’m on a first name basis with pretty much everyone. Hell, one of the guards even puts money in the commissary for me every few weeks.
“Only if you want it to be.” I don’t know what to say to that, so when I don’t say anything, Mercer continues. “We’re practically perfect, you and I. In fact, I’m becoming quite infatuated with you.”
“Who are you?” He opens his mouth, but I put up a hand. “Don’t just repeat your name. You know what I’m asking. Who are you?”
“I’m…” His first stumble. Interesting. “I’m… you, Locke. Just like I said, we’re practically the same man.”
He’s the kind of man I want to be.
Is this what he’s offering?
A chance to be him?
How do I say no to that? I’m already addicted. I can’t imagine how dull life will be once he leaves me here.
It’s heartbreaking.
Mercer keeps going once it becomes clear I don’t have anything to add. “I have stacks of projects. And you need to be part of them. Don’t worry about the school. You’ll be at Yale. You’ll have support. And when you’re done, I’ll be there to pick you up.”
“Did you go to college?”
“When I was twelve. And that’s when you should’ve gone too. But… you got misplaced, Locke. It was unfortunate, but the important thing is, we’ve found you now and all you have to do to get this new life is sign right here.”
He points to the bottom of the last page of the contract we just went over. And I swear, I stare at the blank, white space for an eternity as I imagine this new direction.
When I look back up at him, he leans over the table, his hand reaching behind my head to pull me closer, and I am certain—absolutely one-hundred-percent certain—that he’s going to kiss me.
But he doesn’t. He just stares into my eyes as he speaks. “You belong with me, Locke. Sign the papers. And in two months I will see you outside this dismal, disgusting, depressing building and then you can do whatever you want with my lips.”
He leans back in his chair and I’m holding my breath. Mind reeling from this man’s words.
I sign the papers.
Two months later, he’s true to his word.
When I come out of juvy he’s in the parking lot, leaning against some classic Mustang that probably goes for several hundred thousand dollars. He’s wearing faded jeans and a white button-down shirt that’s flapping in the wind, black work boots on his feet.
There were clothes waiting for me when I was released. A suit, of all things. Just like the one he was wearing the day we met.
He’s the kind of man I want to be.
And this is the first step.
When we’re about two feet apart, I stop. And he smiles.
Which makes me smile. Though I’m nervous.
Then he erases that two feet of space between us and he’s got his hand around the back of my neck again. Just like he did that day. I have jerked off endlessly to the feeling of that hand on the back of my neck. He pulls my face to his and then…
Then…
Fuck.
His mouth is way more than I could’ve ever imagined.
And his kiss is the true start of my addiction.
He kisses me like I’m his long-lost lover.
He kisses me like I’m his fucking soulmate.
And that’s how all this shit started.
With a kiss.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE - NOVA
FIVE YEARS AGO – THE LAST TRIAL
Mercer is handing me a glass of champagne.
I take it, and then he sits next to me on the couch. I’m tired, I don’t want this drink, and I don’t want to be alone with him in his house. It’s weird. Like a date or something.
“Aren’t you going to drink it?”
I set my glass down on a side table and turn to him. “I’m… just… tired, Mercer. I’ve got one trial left and if this one doesn’t kill me—”
“Oh, stop. Kill you, Nova? Kill you?”
“You don’t know!” He acts like I’m constantly overreacting about these fucking drug trials. But that’s the whole fucking purpose of drug trials, right? Expose the side effects and shit? “You don’t know anything about this stupid drug. And you’re not the one taking it, so you don’t even get to have an opinion, OK?”