“Do you know how much we get for girls like you?” another smarmy voice says.
I’m not even entertaining that comment with a response because they’re not taking me any-fucking-place. I just need to figure a way out.
When he thinks he has control over me, I go limp. Catching him off guard, he loses his footing, loosening his grip enough to free my arm, and I go into attack mode.
Straightening my hand, my fingers stiff, I chop him in his Adam’s apple then drag my nails down his face. Gasping for air, he drops, and my body hits the ground with a thud.
My body is pumped up with adrenaline, so I don’t feel the pain, and what I’m sure will become a bruise. Rolling up, I close my fist and punch him in the dick, and like the Goliath he is, he tumbles to the ground, his head thwacking against the tiled floor, going still.
Scuttling on my knees, I reach the door, scrambling to reach the handle. I yank it open and dive out of the locker room.
I’m just getting to my feet when I hear the creak of the door, and I take off down the hall, coming across the boys’ locker room door, and dash inside.
My labored breaths echo in the empty room as I try to control my breathing and find somewhere to hide and call Thomas. Walking deeper into the locker room, I hear running water beating against a surface and music. The closer I get, the more I can make out someone singing a song.
I’m about to identify the singer when simultaneously a muscular calf steps out of the shower and a melodic voice belts out the words toI Knew You Were Trouble.
The naked ass of Wes is the first thing I see before he turns around, and I’m introduced to why he walks around so full of himself.Holy shit.
He’s not bulky. He has more of a swimmer’s frame, washboard abs that lead to a well-defined Adonis belt and he’s long, and I do mean long, everywhere.
Tilting my head, I blink and pinch myself to ensure it’s not a dream.Are they all this big?I’ve seen my fair share of porn dicks, but that’s porn. I thought dicks this big were unicorns.
He yelps once he recognizes he isn’t alone.
“What the fuck are you doing in here trash?” He snarls, through gritted teeth, waking me from my reverie.
“Taylor Swift?” I ask, quirking a brow, forgetting the danger pursuing me until I hear a door slamming against the wall.
“Fuck, we need to hide,” I whisper yell, reaching for his arm and ignoring his glistening chest.
Yanking out of my grasp, he grabs a towel, wraps it around his waist, and yells, “What the hell have you gotten yourself into now?”
“Shut up before you send out a solar flare of our location,” I demand while trying to find a place to hide, and continue, “Some assholes cornered me in the girls’ locker room and tried to assault me.”
His eyes bulge, surprise lining his face.
“What the fuck do you mean? Why haven’t you called for Thomas?” He asks like I’m some idiot, or maybe he’s one if he couldn’t comprehend what I just said.
“Well, I was planning on calling him once I found somewhere safe to hide and could use my phone.”
His eyebrows descend from his hairline, slowly furrowing downward. Confusion evident, he states, “Why would you need a phone when you can just hit the distress button on your watch?”
My eyes look at the watch that doubles as a safety measure, and I rub my hands across my face. Of course, I would forget this thing has that capability. I’ve never had to use it.
Pushing the button that will have Thomas racing to reach me, I mumble, “I forgot it did that.”
“We need to hurry up and get the fuck out of here before her driver shows up. It’s been too long already,” one of the distorted voices from earlier states.
“Too late, but it’s not Thomas you have to worry about. It’s us,” the vitriol in Wyatt’s voice travels down the hall.
I make it two steps before Wes’s hand shoots out and pulls me into his barely covered body. “Stay put. You don’t want to see this,” he commands. I flush at our closeness, remembering the last time he was this close. I can almost feel a phantom tug on my hair.
Clearing my throat, I step away as the crunch of skin connecting with bone filters down the hall. Mewls of terror are the last noises I hear from the front of the locker room before Thomas’s form enters the shower stalls.
Surveying me, he ensures not a hair is out of place and says, “Let’s get you out of here.”
38
