Page 57 of Before Eve
“Do you like that?” he asks.
“Yes,” I whisper as I pry my left hand from the blanket and latch onto his jacket to pull him toward me.
His lips meet mine in a teasing yet firm, tongue-circlingkiss. Sliding my hands up his back, I pull him tighter to me, consumed with the need to feel his weight. He grips the back of my bent knee, widening it a little, and presses right into me, and I take in a sharp intense breath.
West tears his lips away from mine. “Are you okay?”
His weight is on top of me, his warmth surrounds me, and I feel nothing but safe, so I nod, and West covers my mouth for another deep kiss.
Everything aches for the release I gave myself in the bathroom a few days ago. But this time it’s stronger, more penetrating, and when that release comes, it’ll be ten times more powerful than what I gave myself.
Voices way in the distance trickle in. West pulls back. We both stare at each other for a dazed second. Then slowly, he rolls to his knees and scrubs his hands down his face before looking at me and letting out a disbelieving laugh. “I get so lost in you.”
The voices get louder, and we both look down the beach to see a group of people walking with flashlights.
“Geocaching,” West tells me as he gets to his feet. “We better go back. But thissoisn’t over.”
I flush, equal parts embarrassed and turned on. I get so lost in him, too.
When we get back, Vianca’s waiting for him in their living room with the Twizzlers and round two of zombies.
“You can join us if you want,” West tells me, walking me to my bedroom.
“That’s okay. Go spend time with your sister. We’ll see each other tomorrow.”
He gives me a hard kiss. “We definitely will. Or maybe tonight. If I sneak into your bed.”
CHAPTER 29
I’ve been standingwith my back to the wall, head bowed, wrists held in place behind my back as if invisible fingers grip them. But Grayson won’t leave. He paces my room—back, forth, back, forth. Normally, he’s gone by now, especially if I stay really still.
Lethal, violent energy buzzes the air.
I don’t know what I did wrong this time. He won’t even tell me. Desperately, I search my brain digging deep for apologies.
I’m sorry I left a chicken bone on my plate at dinner.
I’m sorry my hair isn’t combed smooth.
I’m sorry I made an A- in English.
I’m sorry I’m fifteen. I’m sorry I’m a girl. I’m sorry I favor my mother. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.
He stops pacing. Despite everything in me that screams to keep my eyes shut, I slit them open just a little as he unbuckles his gray leather belt. My stomach cinches tight. The last time he used that particular belt on me had been three months ago. He made me stand with my hands on the wall and feet braced wide. He took his time, savoring each snap across my backside as I counted.
One.
Two.
Three…
There had been fourteen total, one for each year I’d been alive. I’ve had a birthday since then. Does that mean today there will be fifteen?
This time there is nothing slow and methodical about his movements as he rips the belt from its loops and lunges.
I do the only thing I can; I fall to my knees, curling into a tight ball. I snake my arms around my head.
The belt buckle whips across my back, covered only by a thin cotton dress. It connects with the exposed skin on my arms. It cracks over my bare ankle. It lashes across my back again. My legs. My arms. My ribs. The blows come in a frenzied pattern, driven by blind rage. I count them, praying for fifteen, but I lose track after nineteen.
