Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 80643 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 323(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80643 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 323(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
“Bree had a terrible day, I visited her at work, and she cried on my shoulder. One thing led to another on the roof, and that doesn’t make me a bad person.”
“Mr. Romantic, Noah Vancliff.”
“I care about people. You should try it sometime.”
His eyes twinkle in the way they always do when he’s fucking with me. “You’re prettier when you’re angry.”
“Don’t know what that means.”
“I think you do.”
Something in my spine tingles.
Why the fuck does he have to talk to me that way?
I shift uncomfortably on my seat, looking away from his gaze.
But no matter how much I move, the side of my leg is pressed against his in some way.
I turn to glare daggers at him one more time. “Just stay the fuck out of my business this summer. Understand?”
He shakes his head, exhaling. “You’ve gotten your way for your whole life. Not my problem that you see me as a threat, Noah.”
I hate it because it’s the truth.
He is a threat.
He knows it, and he uses it to his advantage anytime he can around me. He comes from a less privileged background, raised by a single mom with almost no money, and he’s still managed to outshine me in every possible way.
But Crimson College is my world.
The one place I truly belong, where I’m surrounded by my friends in the secret society I care about deeply.
I’m never going to let him fuck with that.
The quartet’s music comes to a swell around us.
Soon, I watch as Dad comes down the aisle, and then Kolina, guided by her elderly father.
Dad embraces her.
He kisses his bride after they’ve exchanged their vows, and I know for certain that what they have is true love. The kind of love I dream of, but seems impossible to find. Dad and Kolina are meant to be. Everyone in the applauding crowd knows it, too.
Torin is my stepbrother now.
I get up fast after the ceremony, removing myself from Torin’s presence like I’m clawing out of a prison.
His scent.
The fucking touch of his leg against mine.
And I get as far away from him as possible.
2
Torin
My shoes hit the treadmill like two beating drums, over and over in rhythm.
Push it.
Right to the fucking limit.
My lungs expand as I push the button to increase the speed. The little beep fills the air and cuts through the music in my earbuds.
Beep, beep, beep.
More.
Need more.
My pace is even faster than usual, although I always like to end my workouts with a sprint. My body is covered in a thin sheen of sweat.
One more half-mile.
I stare ahead at the big mirrored wall of the hotel gym, narrowing my eyes as I watch my form. I’m alone, but I wish anyone else was here in the gym with me.
I fucking thrive on competition.
Not the usual kind, like everybody else who was at today’s wedding tends to enjoy; which typically revolves around money, status, and luxury goods.
I crave competition that makes me feel alive.
The kind that involves pushing bodies to limits they wouldn’t otherwise reach.
Like try to beat me in a race.
Or better: choke me, and I’ll choke you harder.
Fuck me and then watch yourself forget your own ability to speak, when I fuck you twice as hard with the best cock you’ve ever had.
That kind of thing is more my speed.
I want blood, sweat, and tears, hopefully combined with coming so hard I can’t think straight anymore, and those things are very hard to find when you’re at a wedding like today’s.
A gilded cage.
Where I felt like a tiger trapped in a zoo.
People at the wedding kept giving me attention for the Lumber Depot photoshoot I did, but as usual, half of them acted like elderly ladies clutching their pearls in shock about it.
One woman even blushed, barely able to say the word shirtless to me.
“Is that… piercing actually real?” she asked, whispering the last few words.
My nipple barbell really seemed to catch people’s eyes on Instagram.
“It is,” I told her.
“Gosh, that must have hurt!”
I gave her a small smile. “A little.”
It’s funny how one viral social media post has gotten more attention than any of the hands-on volunteer work I’ve ever done in my life.
Not funny ha-ha.
Funny strange.
None of them have a clue what my real desires are, or how posing shirtless was one of the least “risque” things I’ve ever done.
I reach down and jam my finger on the treadmill’s speed increase button a few more times.
Beep, beep, beep.
My calves and thighs are burning and my lungs are at capacity, but I need more. I’m desperate for adrenaline. Need this pent-up feeling inside me to finally explode, before I lose my mind.
I break into a sprint, keeping my breath as even as possible.
Another half-mile.
All night I’ve had the feeling like someone was watching me. While I sat at the wedding ceremony, then afterward at the reception, every time I was lost in the crowd: somebody had it out for me.