Page 42 of Wilder Love
Wrong question, Remy. His erection pressed against my hip, leaving no question as to what he wanted. This was payback. When I had come back to school after Christmas break, after the first time I had sex with Shane, I’d decided that I wasn’t going to put up with Tristan’s shit anymore. He pushed, and I pushed back harder. He taunted and teased and threatened, and I had laughed in his face, telling him there was nothing he could do to me. I’d been vocal, loud and bold and defiant.
“We can do this the hard way or the easy way,” Tristan said. “Your call.”
I tried to shove him away. He laughed. “Let go of me, asshole,” I gritted out.
“I want you and I’m going to have you.”
So cocky and sure of himself. I laughed. “Haven’t I made myself clear? There’s not a chance in hell I’d ever be with you.”
“Oh, I think there is.”
“What are you going to do? Force yourself on me? Are you going torapeme, Tristan?” I was feeling cocky. Tristan was a lot of things, but he wasn’t a rapist. Even he had lines he wouldn’t cross. I’d studied him for eighteen months in this game of cat and mouse we’d been playing.
He took a step back, a smug smile on his face. “No. You’re going to come to me of your own free will, little lamb.”
“You’re insane.” I sidestepped him.
“What do you think would happen to Shane’s surfing career if he got slapped with statutory rape charges?”
Statutoryrape? “Shane and I are just friends.”
“Just friends,” he repeated. “From where I’m sitting, you areveryclose friends. Friends with benefits.”
He had no proof. He couldn’t prove a thing.
“My father is all about protecting his interests. It’s all about the bottom line. Do you think my father shells out hundreds of thousands of dollars without expecting his golden boy surfer to deliver the goods? Not only does Shane need to win, he needs to show that he’s a model citizen. He’s a brand. Andyouare a liability to his career.”
“So that’s why you’re doing this? Because you care so much about Shane?”
“I don’t give two shits about Shane Wilder. But you do. You go over there at night, sneaking around under the cover of darkness. You let him fuck you, don’t you? Or maybe you’re the one who instigated it. Yeah, that sounds more like it. You’re a dirty little whore. Like your mother. And come to think of it… your brother too. Must run in the family.”
I tried to block out his words, the truth in them. Nobody could prove we had sex. He saw my hesitation though and he used it.
“If golden boy screwed up, my father would drop his ass so fast he wouldn’t know what hit him.”
“It’s not statutory rape if two people are just friends. This is ridiculous. We’re done here.” I shoved past him. He grabbed my arm and yanked me back, his grip on my arm so tight, his fingers dug into my skin through the fabric of the hoodie. I’d have bruises tomorrow. Bruises from Tristan Hart’s fingers. He shoved me into the passenger seat, scrolled through his cell phone and tossed it in my lap. “Maybe you should brush up on the law.”
I picked up his phone and skimmed the words on the screen. The terms of statutory rape. Rape was such an ugly word. It shouldn’t even be applied to what Shane and I had. Bile rose up in my throat and I swallowed the bitterness as Tristan settled into the driver’s seat.
“Ready to play along?”
This couldn’t be happening. This could not be happening. It seemed that the law wasn’t too concerned about two teens fucking each other’s brains out. It was the age difference that mattered the most. That’s what I got out of it, anyway.
“I’d be willing to bet that he’d come clean,” Tristan said, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. “He’d never lie under oath, would he?”
A whimper escaped my lips. I hated myself for showing a sign of weakness. Tristan smiled smugly.
Shane wouldn’t lie. He never lied. He believed that people had to be held accountable for their actions, and he would take the blame.
Oh God. What have I done?
What have I done?
“He has a promising career ahead of him. Do you want to be the girl responsible for ruining it?”
No. I didn’t want that. Tristan had done his homework. Eighteen months of watching me had paid off. Somehow, he had seen right through my insecurities. Had figured out how to manipulate me. How to hit me where it hurt most.
Shane.
