Total pages in book: 241
Estimated words: 234779 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1174(@200wpm)___ 939(@250wpm)___ 783(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 234779 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1174(@200wpm)___ 939(@250wpm)___ 783(@300wpm)
I touch my bottom lip, conscious of all the trouble it’s causing. Sherlock kissed me so at first I think he probably smeared my lipgloss, but then I touch my lip and realize it feels kind of tender and swollen.
He bit my lip.
It all happened so fast, I didn’t even realize.
I cover my mouth, not wanting Hunter to see. Guilt leaps to my eyes. I step forward as I try to explain. “It’s not what it looks like.”
I know exactly what it looks like. It looks like we were making out in the hallway and we tumbled into a room that happened to be occupied.
Hunter takes a slow step forward, then another.
I’ve never been afraid of Hunter, but my heart pounds like I am as I take an instinctive step back.
Half-assing his performance now that Hunter has zeroed in on me, Sherlock says, “I didn’t even realize this was your room…”
“Get. The. Fuck. Out,” Hunter says carefully, his voice so low and dangerous, it sends a jolt of fear down my spine.
My back is against the door, so I can’t move any farther away from him. I push back anyway, like I can disappear into it if I push hard enough. “Hunter, I wasn’t—We weren’t—He set me up.”
“Oh yeah?” He stalks closer. “He kidnapped you and dragged you to my house, to my bedroom without anyone noticing you crying out for help?”
My flush deepens. “Well, no.”
“Are you here with him?” he demands.
“Well… technically,” I say uncertainly.
He’s close enough to reach both of us now. Sherlock hasn’t left yet, he’s still standing in the doorway. Hunter looks over at him, eyes narrowed. “What the fuck are you waiting for? I said get out of my house.”
I cast an anxious look at Sherlock, who—for a split second—looks torn. “Are you gonna be okay?” he asks me.
I think he really means it, but he’s got some fucking nerve.
Hunter really doesn’t appreciate his friend’s apparent concern for me.
He turns on Sherlock, grabbing him by the shirt and shoving him backward. “Get the fuck away from us before I put you through a goddamn wall.”
“I’ll be fine,” I assure the asshole who lured me here. I’m mad as hell at him, but I don’t want him and Hunter to lock horns. Hunter will calm down once I’m able to explain what happened, but the longer Sherlock stands there, the more pissed off Hunter will get. “Go.”
Sherlock glances from me to Hunter, not appearing entirely convinced, but he didn’t come here to fight with Hunter.
Apparently, he brought me here to feed me to him.
So, without further concern for my well-being, Sherlock accepts my assurance and disappears down the hall.
Once he’s gone, Hunter turns back to me and glares. “Fucking Sherlock? Seriously, Riley?”
I swallow, regarding Hunter with caution as he stalks toward me. “It wasn’t how it looked. We weren’t making out in the hall. He tricked me.”
Hunter grabs me by the shirt, just like he did Sherlock. I gasp, but he doesn’t shove me out of his bedroom—he pulls me farther into it so he can shut and lock the door.
“He—He told me you were having a hard time.” Hunter backs me up toward the wall. I stumble, but I don’t go far since he’s still got that grip on my shirt. “He had this stupid idea to—to come here together tonight, but it wasn’t a date. He just thought if you saw me with him, it might surprise you and then you’d talk to me.”
“Oh, I’ll fucking talk to you, all right,” he says, slamming me back against the wall so hard, I gasp at the impact. His gaze drops to my bottom lip. His jaw locks. I can see the rage burning in his eyes, imagine the memory of another man’s mouth on mine flashing through his mind.
“I’m sorry,” I say quietly. “I know how it must have looked, but he’s your friend, Hunter. I would never do that to you.”
Hunter nods, but I can see in his face he doesn’t believe me. “Right. That’s why you’re dressed like that, huh? Because you’re not interested in him? I saw you laughing at him at lunch today.”
My stomach drops.
“Is he funny, Riley?”
I stiffen as Hunter leans in, hovering near my neck, but not kissing it. It’s more like he’s sniffing around, making sure no rival animal has marked any more of his territory than my mouth. Like he’ll be able to smell him on me.
“I swear to God, Hunter, it wasn’t like that. I thought he was being friendly. He made it seem like he was being friendly. He lured me here under the pretense of helping you. I never would have come to your party with some other guy. You know me. You know that.”
“I don’t know what I fucking know anymore, Riley. I know Sherlock’s no purse-holder. I fucking know that.”