But she’s seen them. And she didn’t turn up her nose or act like I was infected.
“Just this one time,” I tell her as I slowly pull my shirt up over my head. I watch her expression the entire time. Unfazed, she pulls my face back to hers. Her fingers trail up my side and graze over the rigid bumps of my scars. Then to my back where they continue to spread like wildfire. The intensity in this moment is unfathomable. A feeling I’ve never felt before. Trusting someone with my scars—my heart. It’s frightening, but it’s also beautiful.
I slide my dick inside of her and feel her walls collapse around me. Taking things slow, I savor every moment. When I lift my head, our eyes catch and I stare back into her baby blues while feeding her every inch of my cock.
“Mine,” I breathe out, “all mine.” My head drops and her arms wrap around me. This is so much more than just sex with a girl. It’s passionate, intense, and completely mind-blowing. A feeling I’ve never experienced. She keeps taking me to this new high that I can’t get enough of. Dare I say, love?
No, that’s not possible. Is it?
With one final thrust, I lift myself up and pull out. My cock pulsates as my cum shoots all over her bare stomach.
“And you’re all mine.” She pulls my face to hers, and our mouths collide with so much intensity that I feel like I could do this all over again, every minute, for the rest of my life.
We get cleaned up and lie down for a minute, still completely naked, before she breaks the silence. “Any word on Zed?”
I begin trailing my fingers up and down her stomach, watching as goosebumps cascade. “We’ll talk about that later.”
“Please just tell me what you think about all of this.”
“Nothing from Zed. But I’m not surprised. He’ll be in touch when he’s ready.”
“I don’t like the waiting. I wish he’d just voice what he wants and get it over with so we can all move on.”
Pushing myself up, my elbow presses into the mattress on her side. “I didn’t say anything before, but Zed took something from your dad’s office when we were at your house. I think it has something to do with Josh.”
Her eyes open wider. “What kind of something?”
“I don’t know. A piece of paper, maybe. Does your dad have any property or any place that Zed would take Josh’s body?”
“He has property all over. And there’s the warehouse where Axel used to have his fight club. But Dad shut that place down and it’s secured with a passcode and an alarm now.”
“That could be what he took. A paper with the passcode. It’s worth a shot to find out. We need to find his body, bury him someplace that no one knows about and destroy all evidence that connects us to Josh before Zed turns this whole thing around and buries us all.”
“Do you think Zed did it? Killed Josh, I mean?”
No, I don’t think Zed killed him. If he did, he wouldn’t be tampering with his body. He’d stay as far as hell away from it as he could to protect himself. No, he’s doing this because he wants power and he knows that he’s safe from incrimination.
Someone else killed Josh. We just have to figure out who it was before Zed goes too far.
“Anything’s possible. Right now, we can’t trust anyone but each other.”
The End.
Book Two of the Redwood Rebels
series is coming soon! Preorder Heathen now!
Keep reading for a sneak peek at Like Gravity: Talon’s sister, Blakely’s, story.
Chapter One
Blakely
It’s five minutes into first period, and I still have no car keys.
I fluff my hair in the vanity mirror one last time, my mind focused on my disobedient part-line.
I quickly make my way downstairs.
“Esme!” I shout, swinging around and bumping into our petite housekeeper, “Did you…” I stop when I see my keys dangling from her hand. I snatch them up and dash for the door. “I have to go.”
I’m already on Mrs. Tate’s bad side. Not that I care much, but I would like to try and avoid another lunch detention spent studying the atmosphere.
As for her opinion of me, that's no secret. I know that most of the staff at Redwood High think that I’m nothing but a spoiled brat.
I learned at a young age that if you want something, then you have to fight for it, no matter what the cost. That’s how I’ve lived my life, fighting—against my so-called friends, against authority, but mostly against myself. I know what I want and I don’t let anyone get in my way.
My life has been a series of unfortunate events that have shaped me into the person I am today. My parents throw money at me and my little brother to make us go away so that Dad can drink and work his life away, and so that Mom can feast on his wealth and social status, or whatever man bats an eye at her that week.
On the outside, we are the essence of luxury. Our family name is well-known, but no one knows what happens when the curtains are drawn. My little brother and I have learned about life on our own, our role models not exactly exemplary.
Slamming my locker shut as the metal meets with a creak, I walk casually to first period. I’m already late, so what’s the rush? Mrs. Tate will mark me tardy again, threatening lunch detention, and Mom will get another call interrupting her precious morning while she gossips with her stuck-up friends over coffee. Boo-fucking-hoo.
I run my hand down the grooves of the white brick wall until I reach the spirit week graffiti, stopping to admire the
