Chapter 22

The following week is hell. After the bathroom incident, I’d run into Mr. Marx just outside the restroom door. I’d freaked out, sputtering some pathetic excuse, that he ignored, in favor of glaring at me. It was such an unnerving experience.

What was he doing up there? Did he know what I’d just done?

A part of me immediately freaked out, thinking that he was the masked man.

It seems like every corner I turned, he was there, watching me.

I’d gotten detention when I finally made it to class. I zoned out so hard, I ignored the teacher and every attempt she made to get my attention. She’d given me detention for Friday afternoon.

The jocks, in all their infinite intelligence, had caused such a ruckus as they antagonized me this week that they also got assigned to detention. Detention that Marx will be supervising. So this afternoon, I get to deal with my stalkerish teacher and the jocks that hate me.

I’m chewing the eraser off my pencil, when the last bell of the day rings, and I sigh. Could I fake an illness bad enough to get me out of this?

“You good?” Lizzy asks, frowning, as we pick our stuff up, ramming it into our bags.

There’s only two weeks left of school, and it seems stupid and pointless to be issuing detention this late in the year. Especially to a senior. So no, I’m not good.

“I have detention. With the airhead jocks,” I grumble. “And Mr. Marx. Who watches me like some kind of creeper.”

“I’d let that man watch me any way he likes,” Lizzy quips, chuckling.

“Well, I’m sure that’s true, but I don’t like his attention,” I hiss quietly.

“So just ignore him the same way you ignore the attention of every other guy.”

“I would, if he didn’t have such an unnerving stare.”

Lizzy walks me to the classroom detention is being held in, and we say our goodbyes. As I enter, I nibble my lip. I’m not used to getting detention. I’ve always worked really hard in school, and I hate that my standards have slipped, though I know I absolutely deserved to be given the punishment.

I want to take a seat in the back of the room, so I don’t have to deal with the way Mr. Marx stares at me, but I also want to sit in the front, so I don’t have to deal with the jocks and all their bullshit.

The sound of men stomping toward the door has me quickly selecting the front row. Marx huffs a breath like he knows I was struggling with choosing a seat.

I ignore him, and the jocks, as they pile into the room, taking the seats on either side and behind me. They’re loud and don’t seem to give a shit that they’re supposed to be in detention – a punishment – and seem to be treating it like some kind of social event with the way they’re high-fiving and fist-bumping one another.

So far, I’m the only girl here and I’m trying to keep a low profile by sinking down in my seat and hiding my face with a curtain of hair, but it’s only a matter of time before I’m discovered.

I’m kind of praying Mr. Marx insists on silence because I don’t want to have to deal with their comments or their questions.

“Silence!” he snaps, when the last bell, signaling the end of the school day and dismissals, finally rings. I let out a silent sigh of relief. Thank fuck.

I pull out my homework binder and finish all my assignments for the following week. We get a syllabus at the start of the school year, and I like to stay on top of my work.

“Fucking nerd,” I hear one of the bobble heads behind me chuckle, but I just ignore them. I’m used to their annoying ass taunts at this point.

I’ve cared about my education my entire life, and this is just something that comes along with being smart.

Which honestly makes no sense. The cool kids are the ones who get shit grades and couldn’t care less about their education. Okay, well, good luck finding a job without a diploma.

“Someone should break the nerdy virgin in. Maybe she won’t be so uptight…” Steven snarls in a voice not quite low enough for me to fully ignore. The hair on the back of my neck stands on end. The threat is clear.

Unlike my new-found desire to be a dirty slut for the masked man, I feel nothing but pure disgust at the thought of Steven’s hands on any inch of my body.

“May I use the restroom?” I ask, raising my hand. Marx nods, without even looking up, and I take the opportunity to scurry out of the room.

I rush down the hall and straight to the bathroom. I splash some water on my face and take several deep breaths. When I look up, taking in the state of myself in the mirror, the lights cut out. I hear the bathroom door click shut and the lock engage.

“Who’s there?” I yelp, keeping my hand on the counter, and using it to guide me as I inch backward.

“Shut the fuck up, bitch.” The snarling voice is whispered, but I can tell right away, that’s not the voice of my masked man. There’s no slightly robotic tone. No. This is someone else, and their intentions are clear. They’re going to hurt me.

I drop to my knees and slide under the sink. I press my body against the wall, and from here, I can see the light from the hall coming in from under the door. My eyes slowly adjust to the dark, and I watch as my attacker lunges at my previous location. I use the opening to speed crawl toward the door. Unfortunately, I give away my location, and he adjusts, swiping at me.

I let out a scream as I desperately scramble to make my escape.

A meaty hand wraps around my ankle and yanks.

“Hold still, stupid fucking bitch!” he yells.

I scream and kick my feet at him, hopefully aiming for his face. He grunts, releasing his hold, and I don’t hesitate, turning to crawl away once more.

This time when he lunges for me, he throws his whole body down on top of mine.

“Get off me!” I yell at him, lashing out, clawing at his face, and thrashing my body. A fat fist connects with my jaw, and I fall limp as my vision goes fuzzy, and my ears ring. The ache in my face is unbearable.

I groan in pain as I struggle to regain my fight. I’ve never been hit so fucking hard before. The pain is unreal. My ears are ringing and there are stars behind my eyelids.

The fist that busted my cheek wraps around my throat and squeezes. My oxygen is immediately cut off, and I thrash.

My singular focus is on the fact that I can’t breathe. I claw at his wrists, and struggle for air. If he doesn’t release me, I’ll suffocate. He’s trying to kill me.

If I don’t get free, this man is going to kill me. I release his wrists and aim for his face. With every ounce of strength I possess, I dig my thumbs into his eyes.

The hands wrapped around my throat fall away, as the man that just tried to strangle me to death screams. I don’t let go. Not until he’s the one desperate to escape me.

I scratch, and claw, and then spin away, crawling to the door as I gasp for air. I cough around the ache in my throat, and reach for the lock.

As I tug the door open, I get to my feet, and stumble toward the classroom.

There’s a sense of relief that rushes through me when I see Mr. Marx behind his desk. When he sees me, he jumps to his feet, and rushes to me.

“Cora! What the fuck?” he shouts, as I finally relax. Unless this entire classroom full of people decides to conspire to murder me, I’m safe.

Slater said I could trust him. Even if I don’t trust Marx, I do trust my stepbrother.

The world goes black, but my last thought is that this never would have happened, if my masked man was here.

My head throbs,and I wince.

“Cora?” a deep voice murmurs softly, and I groan.

“Ouch,” I mumble, and attempt to blink my eyes open.

“Woah, lie back down.” A heavy hand presses my shoulder down. As I blink, Slater comes into view.

“What happened?” I feel like I was hit by a high speed moped.

“Steven attacked you. If he wasn’t in police custody right now, he’d already be dead,” Slater growls. “Marx found him screaming on the bathroom floor. You might have blinded him, little sister.”

“Good. He tried to fucking kill me,” I hiss. Looking around, I realize I’m in a hospital bed. “Where’s my mom?” I ask, and Slater sighs.

“I haven’t called her yet. Listen, the cops will want a statement from you, but I wanted to make sure you’re okay first. Do you need anything?”

I shake my head.

For the next several hours, I answer question after question. And endure several tests and doctors’ visits. By the time they’re ready to release me, I’m exhausted and bruised.

We never call my mom. I was worried she’d freak out, and at this point, that wouldn’t be helpful anyway.

“I’m sleeping in your bed tonight,” Slater announces, as he helps me into my house.

“No, that won’t be ne—” I start to argue, but the rumble Slater lets out has me shutting up. “Fine.”

“You’ll have to tell your mother what happened eventually,” he adds, as I take every step slowly. My body aches all over, which I initially thought was odd, but I guess it makes sense. I fought that bastard off with all I have.

“You don’t need to remind me. I’ll tell her. Tomorrow. Probably,” I grumble. Honestly, if I could, I’d never say a word to her. She already worries about me enough as it is.

“You need to shower.” Slater switches conversations so fast, I get whiplash.

“Okay,” I agree flatly, not in the mood to argue.

As he helps me into the bathroom, I move to shut the door, but Slater pushes into the room beside me.

“Slater!” I yelp, trying to push him out.

“If you think I’m letting you out of my sight for even a second, you’re wrong.” The look in his eyes tells me he means every word. He’s not going to give me any privacy.

“Can you at least turn around?” I ask, but Slater scoffs.

“No. Now get undressed, so I can check for any other injuries.”

“I’m sure the hospital already did.” I sigh, but he just stands there silently waiting for my compliance. “Fine!” I huff, removing my clothes in a rush, wincing when my body protests.

I’m standing in my bra and underwear now, and throw my hands out.

“Well?” I ask. I try to ignore the voice in my head screaming that I’m half naked in front of my stepbrother. He stays silent, and raises his brow. My eyes go wide. “What? No way! I’m not?—”

“Remove your clothes, Cora. All of them.”

With wide eyes and shaking hands, I do as he says. There was something so unyielding in his tone that the good girl in me had to obey.

Doesn’t mean I have to like it though.

I can’t look at him, as I wrap one arm across my chest, and drop my other hand between my legs, hiding my pussy from his view.

“Spin,” he commands again. Stiffly, reluctantly, I turn, showing him my ass and back.

“Satisfied?” I grumble, trying to break the tension.

“Not yet.”

He walks past me, switching the shower on. I try not to stare at him, as he takes his clothes off, but he’s enchanting. His back is to me so he doesn’t know I’m watching, but the view of his strong shoulders rippling as he moves makes me gasp and I swear I hear him chuckle lightly.

The way he moves, so confident and sure, has jealousy churning my stomach. I wish I could be that strong.

When he leaves his boxers on, I almost pout, until he slips his fingers into the waistband, and slides them down his hips.

My eyes snap up, and I try, I really try, not to look at his ass.

The heat in his gaze makes something inside me flutter to life, but I squash it down. Normal step siblings do not shower naked together. But Slater and I have never been normal. Besides, he’s never looked at me with anything more passionate than anger.

My eyes drop to his ass, as he tests the temperature of the water and ushers me into the shower. I keep my eyes down and try my hardest to pretend like this means nothing.

It means nothing to Slater. Whatever this means to me is nothing…

I tip my head back, wetting my hair, keeping my eyes shut tight, but I can feel the air shift around me as Slater climbs in with me.

I hear the click of my shampoo bottle being opened, and I look up to see Slater pouring some into his hands.

“Turn around, Cora.” His voice is husky as he commands me, and I’m powerless to resist him. The warm water hits my chest, and I squirm when the sensation against my hard nipples sends a flutter to my core.

I back up, but now I’m pressed against Slater. He doesn’t say a word, but I can feel his hardness bumping against my ass.

“Jesus,” I whisper, as I tip my head back, and Slater begins to massage my scalp. “Oh fuck,” I groan, and he grunts in response, his hardness twitching against me.

“Hold still, Cora, and stop moaning,” he practically growls.

“I’m sorry, it just feels…so good.” I’m breathless, as he tugs at my hair, and then rubs the sting away. Is this as good as an orgasm? Fuck, it might be…

“Shh,” he scolds, and I can’t help but grin. Am I affecting him?

He has me rinse, and I pout. I was enjoying the massage. But then he rubs the conditioner into my hair and continues his ministrations.

“Fuck,” I hiss, when he tugs the strands hard, and my entire body is covered in goosebumps.

“Cora,” Slater groans, and pulls my back flush against his front.

“Slater,” I say softly. I think he might take this further until he spins me around and pushes my head under the spray of water. In a flash, he’s gone, and I sigh. I finish rinsing my hair and then turn the water off.

Before I can step out and reach for my towel, Slater is there, pulling the curtain open, and holding a towel for me to step into.

He’s still dripping water, but there’s a towel around his waist, and I try to hide my disappointment.

“Come on, let”s get you into bed.” He leads me into my room, wraps a second towel around my hair, and uses the first one to pat my body dry. I’m shaking as he helps me into bed, but when I try to hide under the covers, he hisses at me. “You need lotion.”

My eyes are wide as he pumps the white cream into his hands, and then warms it by rubbing them together. I’m lying in my bed, naked, fully exposed to him, as he puts one hand on my chest, and the other on my abdomen.

I gasp as he rubs the lotion into my skin…over my breasts…across my hard nipples.

He doesn’t make a sound, just watches my body as he touches me.

“Roll over,” he says, and I flip onto my stomach. When he starts massaging my ass cheeks, I bury my face into my pillow.

“Jesus,” I murmur, but the sound is muffled by the pillow.

“Drink,” he instructs, when he’s done, and I blink up at him to see he’s holding two painkillers in one hand and a glass of water in the other.

When he turns away, I think he’s leaving. Instead, he grabs me a loose T-shirt and baggy sweatpants and brings them over, helping me into them.

“Thank you,” I say, looking up at him. He’s being so gentle.

He’s so different from my masked man…

“Get under the covers, Cora,” he says, nodding to my bed.

“Okay,” I agree, snuggling into my bed. Despite the warmth of the blankets, I shiver.

Slater sighs, before climbing in beside me. His body heat, and the press of his skin against mine, sets me at ease.

I drift off to sleep easily…