Page 19 of Sticks and Stones (Shadow Valley U)
I swallow and back away until I’m not close enough to touch her. In fact, I press my back against the door in an effort to resist drifting closer. But I can certainlysmellher. It’s like every part of my being is now hardwired to focus on her. To findher. The hate that comes with that is almost overwhelming.
Yet, it’s not enough to stop my dick from reacting. From stiffening in my running shorts.
“What’s wrong, Stone? Never seen a girl bring h-herself to…” She arches, her pretty mouth opening as the words fade.
She’s got to be fucking joking.
I want to strangle her and take over the job in equal measure. Both things would probably beill advised. I’d have to chop off my hands after.
“Keep going.” My voice is fucking hoarse, but I suddenly want to call her on her bluff. “I think I’ll stay right here and watch you come, Sticks.”
Her gaze sharpens, and her movements slow. She closes her legs, trapping the blanket, her hand, and the vibrator between them. It muffles the buzzing. Yet, now I can see that she’s definitelynotwearing panties. The smooth expanse of her slim legs, all the way up to her hip, is bare.
“You’re killing the mood,Foster.”
Her gaze ticks down to my groin, and her cheeks go red. Redder, anyway, since she’s already flushed. But this is different. She’s embarrassed I’m turned on? I’m fucking embarrassed, too. Whoever thought I’d see the day where we’re inthispredicament? Or any predicament at all.
“I’ll tell Evan you got an erection from looking at me in bed,” she threatens. “Thenwho do you think will be the last woman standing?”
I jerk away from the door, just enough to get it open. The thought of her fucking herself is going to do my head in, but it’s her jabs that kill me the most. I make it out the front door without any of the guys noticing, and I pat my pockets for my wallet and phone. They’re the only things I really need for where I’m going.
In the cool autumn air, the heat crawling under my skin finally dissipates. And so does my hard-on. Fucking finally. Traitorous dick.
I spare one glance up toward the window. Not that I expect to see anything, but it doesn’t exactly bring me any comfort not to either. I break into a run.
Running—or any sort of exercise—usually clears my head. It’s what I would do when my step-monster was on my case too much, or when my dad was out for a fight.
I end up at Shadow Bar and Grill. Not exactly cream of the crop here in Shadow Valley, especially since they hired Wren, but it’ll do. If I can get a hockey fan to wait on me, they won’t ask for my ID. It’s practically tradition.
The bar is strangely packed. There’s an NHL game on the screens, and I nod to myself. If I hadn’t distracted myself, I would be in the hockey house with the guys, probably watching the game in the living room.
I slip onto a stool and order a double shot of whiskey. The girl doesn’t even blink, although she does give me a weird fucking smile. She brings it and leans on the bar across from me. I pick up the small glass, mirroring her expression and raising the shot in a toast. Then I down it.
“Rough night?”
“Rough doesn’t even start to cover it.” I slide the glass back toward her. “Another.”
“Yes, sir.”
I imagine those words coming out of Wren’s mouth, and I swallow the liquid.
Two more, and I might not feel anything at all.
That’s how it goes. The bartender disappears, leaving the bottle in front of me, and I pour myself a fifth. I brace my forearm on the bar and stare at the amber liquid for a long time.
My thoughts are all fucked up. What was Wren trying to prove? That she’s as screwed up as me? I already know she likes to toe the line of impropriety. Or blow right past that line.Ihaven’t done anything to sabotage her entire fucking life.
I trace my wrists. It’s a weird thing, being handcuffed. The metal was cold, the vise grip on my skin tight. After, I had sores that took a few days to fade. My dad said he saw that when people tried to fight them.
That gives me an idea.
Better payback than our immature tricks.
Wren needs to know that I’m serious about her getting out. I can’t think around her. I certainly learned that I can’t sleep around her. The sooner she’s gone, the sooner my life goes back to normal. Eat, sleep, hockey. She’s fucking with the middle one, and I have a feeling the longer she stays in the house, the more she’ll fuck with the latter.
“I get off in fifteen,” the bartender says, suddenly back in front of me. One of her buttons is undone, giving me a view of her cleavage. “You know, in case…”
“I’ll be here.” I smirk. “You go to SVU?”