Total pages in book: 171
Estimated words: 164705 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 824(@200wpm)___ 659(@250wpm)___ 549(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 164705 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 824(@200wpm)___ 659(@250wpm)___ 549(@300wpm)
“The police would deem it an accident,” he continued, pinning my arms to my side with his incredible strength. “High levels of alcohol in your blood. Mistakes happen. Especially to rich playboys who can’t handle their drinks.”
“Do it,” I said, resolute.
I meant it, too.
A life where everyone I cared about loathed me was not a life at all. Sleep was a rehearsal for death. And I fucking loved sleeping.
Would not waking up be so bad?
“You’ve been wanting to for a while now,” I sneered.
I saw the way Seb looked at me whenever we spent time together. He craved my pain. Why else would he ask me to dump Briar? It would be an honor to finally grant it to him.
Sebastian closed his eyes, breathing the night in. “I should. I really should.”
“I’m not going to stop you.”
My upper body slid deeper into the water. It covered my entire forehead now. I wondered if he did it deliberately or if he was so focused on his own pain that he didn’t notice me slipping.
I closed my eyes, bracing myself for the end.
“Actually …” His voice turned metallic, and just like that, he rose to his feet, tugging me up with him. “I think it will hurt you much more if I keep you alive and force you to watch my face day in and day out. Let the guilt consume you from the inside. It’s proved to be a great method so far.”
With that, he spun and walked away, kicking the empty whiskey bottle on his way back to the porch.
I released a shaky a breath, clutching my knees.
Before I knew it, I vomited all over the grass, crying and laughing at the same fucking time.
Chapter Fifty-Seven
Oliver
Icy beads of water needled into my skin.
I trudged from the cabana into the mansion, still drunk and dripping wet. I’d taken a shower there, not bothering to undress. Violent goosebumps sprung out of my skin. I tossed my drenched clothes off, scattering them in piles along the way.
I didn’t care that Seb, with his newfound boldness, might walk out and catch me buckass naked. It was my damn house, anyway.
I crawled back upstairs to my room, flung off my duvet, and burrowed onto the mattress when the smooth, warm skin of another body latched onto mine. Confused, I reached to the light on the nightstand and flicked it on.
“Ugh, Ollie.” Briar sat up, squinting at me, her hair a mess. A tiny satin baby doll clung to her body. “What are you doing?”
“I was about to ask the same damn thing.”
If this was a hallucination, I needed to get more of whatever I’d taken to conjure it, because this was a pleasant surprise. Deranged, but pleasant.
My heart thrummed inside my chest.
“I’m trying to get some sleep. Isn’t it obvious?” She rearranged the blanket over her long legs, glowering at me as if I was the weird one. “I need to stack up on those sleeping hours, because apparently, it’ll take us three days to get to Bribie Island.”
“Nauru,” I corrected her. “And you’ve regained your memory, so you can drop the charade, unless you want to skip to the honeymoon part.”
I was certainly naked enough for it – and nice and ready the second her body had curved into mine. How drunk was I, by the way? Had I stooped so low that I now got boners for hallucinations? Did I need an intervention?
If so, I bet Romeo and Zach would film the whole thing. Fuckers.
“The honeymoon part would probably include zero sex and a lot of shopping.”
“Sold,” I quipped, sinking my head onto the pillow. “As long as I can watch you in the changing room.”
“Ollie, you smell like a brewery.”
“Breweries are God’s worship place.”
“You mean churches, temples, and mosques?”
I shot her an incredulous look. “Where do you see people having more fun: there or in breweries?”
She gave me a flat stare. “I hope they sell sunscreen in hell.”
“Don’t worry about me. I get tan, not red. Now, what are you doing here?” I squinted. “I know you remember that I am the worst thing to happen to this world since shoulder pads. What’s up?”
“No.” She stared up at me, the picture of innocence. “I’m your fiancée, Oliver. And I want to marry you.”
What she wanted was to drive me out of my own home.
We both knew that.
Fine. Game on. Now that she had her wits about her, I could retaliate. She was fair game. I could pull her leg. And oh, did I want to do some pulling. And kissing. And biting. And things that would probably make a porn star blush.
“Sweetheart, you’re not scaring me. I put the cum in commitment.”
I tossed the blanket back over us, scooting close to wrap my arms around her waist. It was a fleeting touch, but it made both of us jolt back in surprise as electricity wove between us. I wouldn’t kick this woman out of my bed even if she was on fucking fire. She was threatening me with a good time.