Total pages in book: 152
Estimated words: 147545 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 738(@200wpm)___ 590(@250wpm)___ 492(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 147545 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 738(@200wpm)___ 590(@250wpm)___ 492(@300wpm)
It’s not really sex. It’s not really sex.
I repeat the reassurance to myself, but as he drives his cock deep into my pussy, squeezing my breasts, it feels like sex.
“That’s probably good,” he murmurs, voice a little gruff as he lets go and pulls out of me.
My breathing is heavier. My body is confused. I’m relieved that part is over when he moves away from me and climbs off the bed.
“Get dressed,” he tells me before closing the bathroom door.
My body is on fire, but I tell myself I need to fucking relax. I can’t be this flushed when the police get here, and he said he already made the call.
I do my best not to think about what he’s doing in the bathroom, or the fact that he’s technically the first guy I’ve ever let inside my body. None of that is what I need to be thinking about right now, but I don’t know how to think about anything else.
That was a big deal to me, once upon a time.
I take off Tor’s T-shirt and toss it on the floor beside his bed, then I rehook my bra and pull on the hoodie he grabbed out of my back seat. He brought a pair of basic black leggings, presumably from his sister’s dresser, but as I pull them on, it occurs to me that now that he has been inside me, I do need to go to the bathroom.
He opens the door a moment later, and I swallow, avoiding his gaze as I slip inside.
I pee and wash up, then I pull up the borrowed black leggings. Since the DNA swap has been done, I twist my hair back up and secure it with the claw clip I left on his counter before.
Once I’ve done everything he instructed me to do, I go back to his bedroom and sit on the bed. He’s gone back downstairs, probably to wait for the police. I sit there numbly, my mind a blur, until I hear a vehicle coming up the driveway.
My stomach drops because I know this insane pause in the night is over, and I have no idea what’s going to happen next.
The rest of my life will be decided in the next few hours, and my fate rests almost entirely in the hands of the man whose brother I just killed.
CHAPTER 3
CASSIE
Despite what I’ve done, fortune must be smiling down on me because it begins to rain.
I didn’t even know it was supposed to rain tonight, but in the space of about a minute, it goes from a drizzle to sheets of rain hammering the house.
And the crime scene.
I had absolutely no hope of making it out of tonight without facing the repercussions of my actions. Unlike some other people, apparently, it would never occur to me that I could do something terrible and not have to pay for it. It wouldn’t occur to me to lie.
Obviously, it occurred to Tor right away.
I’m not complaining, but it is worth noting.
Outside, I hear a car door close, and then another. I need to see what’s happening, so I go to the window overlooking the front yard. I watch Torrance greet the officers—there are two of them, but they came in the same car. They talk for a moment, then one officer turns on the brightest flashlight I’ve ever seen in my life. He heads out to search the property, likely for the fictional assailant, while the other officer follows Tor inside the house.
I walk back over to the bed, snatching Tor’s bottle of water off the end table as I sit down. I uncap it and take a drink.
I can’t get my hopes up that any of this will work, but I will give it my best effort.
I go over everything Tor said to me one more time, making sure I have things straight in my head. The memory of Tim’s body springs to mind, but I shove it away.
Then I ask myself, how many nights do I think he was tortured by memories of what he did to me?
Zero. My assumption is zero.
Hell, even tonight he refused to simply admit what he did to me—and we were alone! At that point, it’s just fucking insulting. He’s trying to make me feel crazy for no real benefit.
Well, he was.
He won’t be doing it again.
Before I can think too much on that, there’s a knock on the bedroom door.
“It’s unlocked,” I answer, but don’t move off the bed.
The door eases open, and a man fills the doorway. My stomach sinks when I realize I recognize him.
It’s the same officer who interviewed me when I reported what Tim did to me last summer.
The consequences of living in a small town, I guess.
If he remembers me, I can’t tell. “Hi. I’m Officer Harris with the Holbrook Police Department. Mind if I come in?”