Chapter 12

twelve

LOLA

"The prince kissed the princess." I closed the glittery fairytale book and placed it by the lamp on Gracie's nightstand. "And they lived happily ever after."

If only that were true. In real life, the prince kissed the princess, came on her shirt, walked her home, acted all chivalrous, then kissed her again, and finally didn't acknowledge her for a week.

I pushed those thoughts away and tucked the frilly blanket around Gracie's sleeping form. She looked so tiny in the middle of her queen bed, surrounded by hordes of pillows and fancy cushions.

Growing up, I'd always read her bedtime stories about princesses, and here she was, living like one, in a massive room with a toy store-worth of toys. It was a stark difference from the foster homes I'd lived in. My foster parents had provided the bare minimum. Nothing more.

The Lancasters were nice. They seemed to actually like each other, love each other… Dinner with them had been far better than I had expected. They were rich in so many ways, and Gracie was a part of that. An effortless addition to their perfect family.

I wanted to resent them for being able to give her everything I couldn't, but I didn't. I just missed her. I pushed to my feet and switched off the light, fighting the sting of tears as I pulled the door closed.

"She down?"

I was startled at the sound of Chad's voice before I turned to look at him. He stood in the hall by an open door I assumed must be his. A band tee had replaced his stuffy, button-down shirt from dinner, and it looked so out of place on him.

"Yeah," I said.

"Cool." He fell into step beside me as I made my way toward the stairs. "So, I'm going to a party. You wanna come?"

I stopped with my hand on the smooth banister. There was only one reason Barrington guys ever wanted to hang out with Dayton girls. They might not want to talk to or be associated with the white trash, but they sure as hell didn't mind sticking their dick in it.

My defenses came up. "You're not my type."

Grinning, he pushed off the rail and shifted closer. "You're not my type, either. You're way too…female."

"Oh." Oooooh. "Right. Okay. Good."

"Glad we got that cleared up." He threw an arm around my shoulders as he led me down the winding staircase and into the marble foyer. "So, about that party…"

From the interactions I'd seen tonight, Gracie loved Chad, and he loved her. Part of me wanted to get to know him for her sake. I really did hate parties, though.

"I didn't say I was going."

He stopped by the front door before pulling it open. "You didn't say you weren't."

On a sigh, I rammed my feet into my Converse, bending to re-tie the laces. "I guess I have nothing better to do." Except for any-fucking-thing.

An hour later, I'd decided Barrington parties weren't so dissimilar to Dayton parties.

People danced and chugged beers—granted, the speakers weren't busted, it was a pool instead of a stagnant lake, and no one was butt naked. Yet.

I wanted to dislike Chad just for having everything I didn't, but like his entire family, I couldn't. Who knew there were rich people who weren't pricks?

I handed him my beer. "Watch my drink?" It was one of the biggest acts of trust I could offer him, and he seemed to know it, taking the plastic cup with a nod. I got up and went in search of a bathroom.

The inside of the empty house was pretentious. Artwork a five-year-old could have drawn that undoubtedly cost thousands decorated the walls. The place looked like something out of Modern Living , and the bathroom was just as bad. Why did it need to be so shiny and bright just for someone to take a shit?

The moment I stepped back into the hall, someone grabbed me and slammed me against the wall.

"Get the fuck off me." I shoved my palms over a guy's hard chest, panicking at how silent the rest of the house was.

"What's the matter, whore? Not in the mood to lure any more good, decent men between your poisonous legs."

He pulled back just enough that I could make out his angry features, the nasty gash on his forehead. "My dad told me what you did, Lola Stevens . He doesn't deserve to be in jail for a gold-digging, Dayton slut."

Dad? He shifted, the light cutting across features that were horribly familiar. Features that were branded into my mind like a scar. Johan Taylor had a son… And he knew my darkest secret…

Everything around me faded, and my pulse leaped into a frantic sprint. I knew nothing about Johan except he was a rapist. A rapist his son was now trying to defend…

"What did I do ?" A storm of rage lashed within me. "There is nothing good or decent about your piece-of-shit father. I hope he's getting ass raped daily."

With a snarl, he pressed his entire body to mine. "Maybe I should—"

"You fucking piece of shit!" Hendrix's rage-filled voice boomed off the walls seconds before he yanked Ethan away from me.

"I should have knocked your ass out at the gas station." Hendrix landed several blows on Ethan's face. Blood splattered the pristine marble just before he went down. "You even think of touching her again, and I'll murder your ass." He straddled him, whaling on his face.

"Hendrix," I shouted. "Stop."

But he kept throwing jabs while I stood frozen against the wall, all the emotions I'd bottled up over Johan and Hendrix clawing at the surface of my skin.

"Jesus Christ…" Wolf barrelled down the dark hall, snatching Hendrix off of Ethan. "We gotta get out of here. Now." His gaze moved from Hendrix to me. "Now, Lola." Then he ducked around a corner, shouting for Hendrix to hurry up.

Hendrix swiped over his face, his expression feral and possessive as he closed the space between us."Did he touch you?" He cupped my jaw with blood-slicked fingers.

I shook my head and caught his jaw tic before he grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the front of the house. We hurried through the door, then took off toward Bellamy's ratty Civic, headlights on and waiting at the end of the suburban street.

Wolf had just climbed into the front when Hendrix yanked open the back door and shoved me inside. As soon as Hendrix was in, Bellamy floored it.

We were silent throughout the drive back to Dayton, which did little to distract me from the loop of memories playing through my head. Two years later, I still felt tainted. Soiled. My life was still in shambles.

My gaze drifted to Hendrix, the passing street lights flickering over the side of his face.

Johan still had a year left in jail, but he would get out, and what then? The records were sealed, but now that Ethan had approached me, Hendrix discovering the truth felt like far too real of a possibility. And after watching him beat the absolute shit out of Ethan for touching me…

The Honda rolled into Hendrix's drive. Neither Bellamy nor Wolf said a word as Hendrix climbed out.

My heart begged me to get out of the car and throw myself into his arms, the only place I could possibly feel safe or comforted. But now, more than ever, I needed to distance myself from Hendrix.

I met Bellamy's gaze in the rear-view. "Can you take me to Kyle's?"

In an annoyed huff, Hendrix grabbed my arm and pulled me out of the backseat before kicking the car door closed.

"Wait—"

Bellamy backed out of the drive at breakneck speed, leaving me alone with Hendrix and my demons.

"You're staying here," he said before turning his back on me and trudging through the overgrown weeds toward the porch.

I should have turned around and gone to Kyle's, but even if I could muster the will to walk away from him, he probably wouldn't let me. And so, I followed him into the old, familiar house.

A sense of home washed over me the moment I stepped inside. A lifetime of memories lived here, and despite our poverty, they were all good. No place would ever feel as much like home as this ramshackle old house.

He disappeared into the kitchen, leaving me in the living room surrounded by the obvious aftermath of a party. I took in the beer cans and the snoring, drunk guy on the floor, wondering why Hendrix was in Barrington instead of here?

The floor creaked when he stepped from the kitchen, wiping a dishcloth over his tattooed, blood-spattered throat.

"Why would you leave your own party to go to a Barrington one?" I asked.

He chucked the bloodied towel to the coffee table, every muscle in his body tensing. "Doesn't matter."

"It does matter." Not that I wasn't grateful for his interference. Part of me wanted him to have come for me and to tell me that.

Without a word, he passed by me and headed upstairs.I followed, and when I stopped in the doorway of his room, I told myself it was because I wanted answers, knowing all too well I wanted more.

He yanked the bloodied T-shirt over his head, then shoved out of his jeans.My gaze slid down his broad, tattooed chest before stopping on my name scrawled over his ribs. "I'll never not be with you," he'd said when he'd gotten it done. Spoken with the kind of faith only a fifteen-year-old boy with a fake ID could have. I diverted my attention to the faded Spiderman sheets he'd had on his bed since he was eight.

"Stop standing in the hall like a weirdo," he said.

"I'm respecting boundaries." Mine. His. I wasn't sure.

"Boundaries," he snorted, then crossed the room, latched onto my wrist, and yanked me inside. "That's what you want to call it?"

"Yes."

He flipped off the light. "Those same boundaries you were respecting in the restroom last week?"

I was grateful he couldn't see the heat flushing my cheeks. "Just give me a shirt, and I'll sleep in the spare room."

"You're not sleeping in the spare room. It doesn't lock." His shadow moved to the dresser, followed by the scrape of a drawer opening. "And there are people I don't know downstairs." A shirt landed on the bed beside me.

On a huff, I changed into it before unfastening my bra and pulling it through one of the sleeves. "Fine." After I stepped out of my shorts, I got into my ex-boyfriend's bed. The last place I should have been right then. Or ever.

The squeak of the springs rang out like a warning when he crawled in beside me.

I stared up at the faint glow of the dying stars on his ceiling, my heart clenching at the sight. I'd stuck them up there when we were little because Dayton was so crap you couldn't even see the stars… The little plastic designs barely glowed anymore, just like us. A weak representation of something that had once been so bright.

Silent moments stretched between us, that sense of discomfort growing worse.

On a huff, Hendrix shifted in the bed. "This is weird as shit."

"You're the one who wouldn't let me go to Kyle's."

Springs creaked before his hand landed on my stomach. Something in me settled at the small, familiar contact.

"What can I say…." He fingered the hem of my shirt. "I'm a jealous dickhead."

"It's Kyle ."

No one could be less threatening. In all our years of friendship, Kyle hadn't once looked at me like that. Hendrix had never been rational, though. He'd made Kyle faint, for God's sake.

"And it's you …" He pushed onto his elbow, staring down at me while indecision played through his eyes. "This is such bullshit." He gripped my jaw before lowering his face to mine.

I had time to pull away before his lips pressed to mine, but I didn't. Because no matter what had happened or how much life had damaged us, I'd always want him.

My lips parted. His tongue swept against mine, and I fell into the kiss as though I could drown in him.This was such a bad idea, but I craved his hands on my body, his lips, his dirty words whispered in my ear.

After two years of missing and wanting him, we were right back in the bed where we had taken each other's virginity. He was right here, his fingers tangling in my hair and angling my head back.

"Tell me this doesn't feel right?" he breathed against my lips, eyes searching mine through the amber glow of the street light outside his window.

It did feel right. That was the problem. Hendrix had always been the silver lining to the black cloud hanging over my life. The past few years without him had been nothing but darkness. I was desperate for a patch of sunlight to bask in.

"This is a bad idea, Hendrix." Even as I said it, I clasped the back of his neck, pulling him closer because I needed this.

Just one more time.

"Bad ideas are always the best, though." He rolled on top of me, the hard press of his cock settling between my thighs as his mouth worked over my throat. "You can tell me to stop…" His hand slipped beneath my shirt, grabbing my breast. "Do you want me to stop?"

Shouldn't, couldn't, wouldn't all fled my mind in a frantic rush. "No." I grabbed the waist of his boxers and shoved them down before gripping his pierced dick. "Don't stop."

He thrust into my hand, and his teeth sank into my neck on a restrained groan. "Fuck, I want you." Another pump and precum wet my palm.

I spread my legs wider, trapping his cock between my palm and lace panties. Each pump sent every nerve sparking as though my body had awakened from some long, dormant sleep.

Moaning, I arched my back from the bed and imagined him driving inside me.

"Shit," he breathed. "I can't take this." Then he shoved my panties to the side. His hard dick slipped over me, and I lost it. "Tell me to fuck you. Please." He kissed my throat. "Before I lose my shit."

Madness only Hendrix could stir within me took hold. I raked my nails over his ass in an attempt to pull him closer, to get him inside me. "Fuck me, Hendrix."

The plea had barely left my mouth before he slammed into me, hard and deep.

It had been two years since I'd slept with him since I'd slept with anyone … and the brutality of it sent a twinge of pain shooting through me.

"Jesus…" He stilled, hissing in a breath. "Stop gripping me like that."

I couldn't help it. He filled me, stretched me, consumed me until all I felt was him.

"Fuck. I can't…" He pulled out and slammed back in, his grip on my hips every bit as punishing as his dick.

Each hard thrust felt like he was trying to fuck himself back into me, stamp his claim.

Within seconds, he had me clawing at his back, edging toward the sweetest high, but then he stilled. His mouth slammed over mine. His hips stuttered; muscles tensed under my hands. "God, Lola. I..." He buried himself as deep as possible on a groan.

He'd just come.

Before I had.

And inside me. My heart sank at the thought that he'd just used me.God, what was I doing?

"Shit. I didn't mean to..." On a hard breath, he dropped his face to the crook of my neck. "Your pussy just feels too damn good."

Before I could say, " Well, that's great for you ," he sat up and grabbed the tops of my thighs. Then his hot mouth landed on my pussy, his tongue making tiny circles over my clit.

"Shit, the way I taste in you…"He was so filthy and so damn good with his mouth.

"You're so—" But I couldn't finish that sentence because whatever he had just done had me gripping the sheets and fighting a moan.

"Good at eating your pussy?" He smirked up from between my spread thighs. "I know."

Two swipes of his tongue had my muscles trembling, chest heaving in anticipation. Then he rammed his fingers inside me, and I fell apart. Emotionally. Physically. Pleasure overtook my body like a drug, making me high on the drag of his tongue, each thrust of his hand. My fingers found their way into his hair, pulling his face closer just for the extra friction. Tension built in my muscles, coiling like a spring under pressure, and then, the orgasm tore through me like liquid fire.

My limbs went lax on a deep moan, and I lay there, basking in the blissful aftermath of what he'd just done to me.

"Bad idea, huh?" He collapsed onto the mattress beside me while I tried and failed to catch my breath.

It was a bad idea. I'd fucked Hendrix, and I couldn't even bask in the afterglow because he'd come in me.

I'd let him come in me.

How stupid could I be?