Page 225 of Scoring the Player
I nod even though it hurts. “Did you go home with him?”
“No.” He gazes into my eyes, so serious that it snuffs out any doubt. “I can’t be in love with you and do that.” He presses his forehead against mine.
I stare down at his lips before my tongue traces across the top one and bites into his bottom. “Mine,” I grit out.
He slowly rolls his hips, making me bite down harder.
“Yours,” he rasps.
I’m notready for morning when it arrives.
I stir awake when he tries to pull his arm out from underneath me and groan, holding on to him.
“Be right back. I’m going to feed and walk Sim real quick,” he whispers.
I roll onto my back and scrub my face as he disappears into the bathroom.
Ugh. My bones ache like I went to war and got bludgeoned.
I knew stepping foot in Mom and Carter’s house would be hard. I knew there was a high chance Carter would try to corner me again, and I’d have to get big to get him to back off.
I didnotknow that we would talk.
“You need anything?” Salem asks, emerging from the bathroom and grabbing his sweats.
“Can you pass me my pills?” I point to the duffle.
“Yeah.” He kneels and rummages through it.
“The small pocket.”
“Ah. All three bottles?”
“Not the risperidone.”
He reads each of the labels, figures out which is which, and then hands them over. “Is that enough water?”
I nod and shuffle to sit up to sort out the pills.
“How do you feel?” he asks.
Like maybe I need the risperidone.
I shrug. “I don’t want to leave this bed today.”
“Done. What else?”
I throw the pills back with a swig of water.
“I don’t know how to describe it when I’m around them. Mom and Carter. It just leaves me feeling…”
How would Zuri make me describe it?
“…like this feels like it’s been poked with a million tiny knives.” I point to my stomach. “This feels like it’s swollen.” I point to my throat. “And this”—I massage my temples—“is all messed up, like someone has one of those air pumps and they’re pulsing stale air inside.”
“Spacey?” he offers.
“Yeah.”
