Biting back my smile proves useless. Instead of another rude comment, he’s settled for the truth.
It’s a small victory, but I’m winning for the first time since I woke up in hospital. My mouth splits into a grin, a fraction of the heaviness lifting off my shoulders.
“Happy.”
Nash doesn’t smile, but his features soften a little when he looks at me. “Good. Now tell me what you want for breakfast.”
“I already ate breakfast.”
“No, you had three bites of an apple. That’s not breakfast. You like pancakes? I know a decent pancake place.”
“Might not be a good idea. Most of the professors live in town. If someone sees me, they’ll report back to the dean.”
“Fair point. That leaves the drive-thru; you’ll have to make do with burgers and fries.”
He makes a left, the engine growling when he drops the pedal, flying down a deserted road toward the small town. Soon enough, we order food, and after another much shorter ride, Nash turns into a woodland road, throwing the car into park once we’re hidden from the main road.
He cracks the window open, letting in the scent of wet undergrowth, trees, and mud. The rustle of leaves dancing on the wind breaches the silence. The temperature inside drops a few degrees, skittering chills down my arms.
And then it hits me.
We’realonein the middle of nowhere.
I don’t know why the sudden fear, but it accelerates out of proportion. My hands start shaking. The trees loom closer, their branches reaching out like long, dead fingers, and my stomach somersaults.
I twitch toward the door handle, the urge to flee growing with every passing second, flight response kicking in so hard it knocks the wind out of my chest.
I turn to Nash, desperate for confirmation that we’re not here so he can hurt me, but an intense blue stare yanks the steady ground from beneath my feet.
His irises are dark like a starless sky, not blue...
His hair is dark, not blond...
There’s a subtle change in the air. A subtle change in our surroundings. Tension fills the space, upping the anxious dread prickling my temples. My pulse quickens along with my breathing when the memory fully pulls me under.
“What’s wrong?”Alex asks.
We’re in a car. It’s newer than Nash’s Pontiac, its sleek interior oozing the kind of luxury a cop can’t afford. There’s urgency in his moves as he lifts his ass off the plush seat, simultaneously yanking his unzipped jeans down to his mid-thighs in one smooth tug.
His cock springs out. Long, hard, the head red and leaking precum as it hits his white-t-shirt-clad stomach.
“We don’t have much time,”he coaxes, reaching over to grip my neck.“Come on, get to work. I need to leave soon.”
I look beyond his face, at the forest outside, nothing but tall trees within sight. The tension between us thickens further, so palpable it could be cut with a knife.
I don’t say a word. I don’t question him as he leans in, closing the distance between us. Why don’t I question him?
Why am I so... numb?
“A little nervous today?”
With visible impatience, he stamps an impatient kiss on my lips, before forcing his tongue into my mouth. The world narrows to the sensation of that kiss. It’s not soft or delicate, noteager or passionate. It’s forced. Like something he’s suffering through to get what he wants.
And apparently, what he wants is a blowjob.
With his free hand, he grips mine, moves it onto his lap and wraps my fingers around his stiff shaft, squeezing hard. Up and down, up and down... he jerks himself off with my hand, groaning into my mouth, the kiss becoming sloppy, wet, and off-putting.
I don’t want this.
