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“River, please,” he whispers, his voice stifled and thick in his throat. “I can be better, I can do more. I thought that you wanted me too.” He shakes his head as he tries to lace his fingers into my hair. With my back pressed against the wall, all that I can do is turn my head away from his mouth, endless streams of tearsflowing silently from my eyes. He buries his nose into my neck, inhaling deeply as his chest shakes against me. “River, I’m in lo-”
I pull my elbows up and ram them as hard as I can into his chest. Although the force of it doesn’t make him move, he gets the hint and backs up, pushing one hand into his pocket as he rubs his other wrist across his dampened cheeks. I notice that the crucifix chain that he always wears is wrapped around his fist instead of hanging on his neck, and I wonder why he took it off. Then he puts that hand into his other pocket.
My voice is flat and cold when I speak again. “You’re nothing to me, Tate. This? This was all nothing. You’re the biggest fraud that I’ve ever met and I never want to see you again, ever. I thankGodthat you’re not going to be living anywhere near me anymore, and I hope that you never do again.”
Without a second glance I turn and bolt, my tears gushing noisily now as they fall down my face and neck. My throat feels tight and strangled, and my lungs are aching with the pressure of my heaving cries. I would fumble in my bag for my inhaler, but I can barely feel my fingers anymore.
As I run through the school gate I feel the wintry air gust up my legs, piercing the now bare area underneath my skirt where my tights were pulled and torn. I cry anew as I recall what just happened and I pull my skirt down as far as I can, to ensure that my legs are as invisible as possible.
My feet pound the pavement and I look down at my tights, a long ladder stretching all the way down from the inside of my thigh, trailing off into a snake’s-tail point just below my knee.
I look back up and swallow painfully, my chest so tight that I think I could die.
No more skirts, I think to myself as I round the next corner, clutching onto my bag for dear life.No more skirts.
Chapter 27
Present
I had climbed off of Tate’s lap before I told him what had happened and now I’m watching him nervously as his hands clench and unclench around the steering wheel. His whole body has gone rigid and I can tell from the way that he’s staring out of the front window that there’s only one thought in his mind right now.
He punches on the engine and grabs the gear stick.
“Tate, no!” I shriek. “You can’t drive like this!” I wrap my hand over his and his head snaps to face me. In the darkness of the car his eyes are burning red. He shoves the car back into Park and pulls me back on top of him.
“I thought that you… all this time I’ve thought that you…” He folds his lips into his mouth and takes a few scarily deep breaths, the rise and fall of his chest so extreme that my eyelids start fluttering. He surveys me up and down, his rigid jaw clenched, and a shiver runs through me. “I want to kill him, River. I really want to kill him.”
I hide my face in his neck, nodding gently before nuzzling into his warm skin.
“I don’t even know if I should touch you right now,” he admits quietly, his voice rough. I don’t know if he means that he shouldn’t touch me because I just told him about being sexually assaulted, or because he’s so angry that he doesn’t know whathe’s capable of, but I have had years to come to terms with being touched by Hudson, and now the only thing that I want is for Tate to wipe the memory of him out of my brain forever. I lean forward, pressing my lips to his, and I make the decision for him.
He moans when I stroke my way up his shirt, his hard abs flexing beneath my fingers, and he gently fills my mouth with the length of his tongue. His hands knead me from behind and he slowly rocks his hips upwards, rhythmically sensitising me until I’m panting.
“I’m going to take you to my place right now,” he murmurs, moving his mouth from mine. “We can’t do this out here. No one else gets to see you like this.”
He runs one of his hands over the dip in my waist and then he reaches up to my chest, where he splays out his palm and squeezes, massaging me gently until I’m gripping my fingers into his sides.
“Tate,” I whisper warningly.
“One more minute, baby,” he murmurs, and his lips trail down the centre of my neck.
I close my eyes and sigh. In one more minute I’ll be comatose.
My stomach is swarming with butterflies. I rub my body against Tate’s, thinking about how I’m not sure if we’re going to be able to make it to his house. I have no idea where he lives and I want to see what it looks like. I love that he wants to take me there and have me inside of his secret space. I love everything about right now.
I love it so much that I open my eyes as Tate kisses along my collarbone, but instead of looking down to watch his mouth sucking my skin and his hand softly teasing my breast, my eyes lock onto the face grinning at me straight through the window.
I scream and immediately roll off of Tate’s lap, hiding my body behind his side. “Shit!” I shriek, panicked. Ice drops straight through my stomach and, if I wasn’t about to pass out, Ithink I would be sick. It takes Tate a moment to recalibrate but as soon as he sees what I’m seeing he pushes me to the other side of the car and whips the shirt hanging over the shoulder of his chair on top of me. He’s out of the car before I even blink.
Hudson is backing away from him but his mouth is still spread into a sly smile. I knew that I saw him. What thefuckis he doing here? How did he know where we were?
My blood runs cold. Does he know that I live here?
Hudson puts the bed of the truck between his body and Tate’s, and they both grip the sides as they stare at each other - Hudson gleeful, Tate murderous. My hands are shaking as I fumble to pull the shirt up my arms and I numbly click the truck door open, ready to grab Tate and get the hell out of here.
“Tight for a little slut isn’t she?” Hudson snickers as I come into view, wrapping my hands around Tate’s tensed forearm and futilely trying to pull him back inside the car.
Tate moves his head from side to side, cracking his neck and rolling his shoulders, and then he murmurs quietly so that only I can hear him, “Let go for one minute baby.”
