She’s confirmed what we both hoped wasn’t true. That the gun’s loaded and she knows how to pull the fucking trigger.
Man, what the hell is wrong with me? Do I have a fucking death wish or something? Haven’s serious about me leaving. I’ve seen her contemplating serious shit before, and she’s got that same stubborn determination on her face.
I should just do what she wants.
But I can’t help myself. Instead of obeying, I just keep pushing back.
Because I know what will happen when I’m gone.
The way Haven stares at Rooke makes my fucking skin crawl and my teeth ache. Why does she look at him like that? Because she likes it when he gives her attention? A rescue dog wouldscratch that same itch, and it wouldn’t expect her to fuck it in return.
I won’t let him touch her. Can’t even bear the thought of them fucking again. Once was enough. Those memories are branded into my fucking brain.
“Just put the gun down, and we can leave,” I tell her, lifting my hands, showing her just how calm and reasonable I’m being.
She laughs. “I’m not going anywhere.” The gun trains on my chest, like she knows she’ll hit her mark with a broader target. “And neither are you. You had your chance, and you blew it.”
There’s a glimmer in her blue eyes. Pain. Betrayal. She’s not just talking about right now, when I could have—fuckingshouldhave—left.
She begged me to take her v-card under that maple tree, but I pussied out.
Why?
Because people would talk. Both our reputations would be destroyed…and she didn’t even have one yet. I was doing her a favor by saying no, but she thought it was a diss.
Is that why it took Rooke holding a gun on us last night before she finally let me fuck her?
The gun swings away from me, toward Rooke. And of course the sadistic cunt is enjoying every second of this. Probably has a hard on, watching Haven try to take charge like this.
“You two had so much fun ordering me around last night,” Haven says. “Makes me want to see what all the fuss is about.”
I smile when Rooke’s marble-like face twitches with confusion. But then her words sink in, and it’s my turn to stare at her with dread.
“Jesus, Haven, what the fuck are you?—”
I cut off when the gun trains on me again. “Quiet, boy,” she stage-whispers. “I’ll let you know when you can speak.”
Jesus fucking Christ.
I start shaking my head. “No. No, Haven. Whatever the fuck you think is going to happen?—”
The gun moves down to my knee. “We never really got a chance to talk,” she says quietly, eyes briefly unfocused. “Do you still play sports? A shot to your kneecap wouldn’t be fatal. But I’m sure it’ll be devastating for your career. Months, if not years of physical therapy.”
“You’ve made your point, Haven,” Rooke murmurs patiently, almost kindly. Condescending fuck. “Now why don’t you?—“
“Uh-uh!” Shetsks, pointing the gun at Rooke. “I’d stay quiet too, if I were you. You’ll be getting the better end of this deal, Professor.Ifyou cooperate.”
I don’t want to look at him, but for some reason I do. And when I see the flicker of a smile on his mouth, I know I’m royally fucked.
Definitely should have left when I had the chance.
She points the gun at Rooke’s crotch, and despite his calm exterior, he still flinches. Jesus, any guy would.
“Kai needs to figure some stuff out before he leaves,” Haven says, the gun still pointed at Rooke, but her eyes on me now.
Her eyes jump back to Rooke. “Couch. Now.” She gestures with the gun.
There’s something between a sneer and a smile playing out on her lips. She’s enjoying this way too fucking much…but can I even fucking blame her? She might have been rolling last night, but that doesn’t mean she wasn’tthere.
