Chapter 13

Chapter

Thirteen

HARPER

B anks has sent seven messages in the past few days. All have gone unanswered, aside from letting him know I’m safe and that I do still love him. I’ll always love him. I just need time to wrap my head around everything.

All my schoolwork is done, I’m ahead on nearly everything. I emailed Amanda at the stables to see if they were hiring, and I’m waiting to hear back from her. No one knows that I’m looking for a job. They probably wouldn’t react very well to the news as they wouldn’t be able to stalk me while I was working.

Now I’m sitting on the couch with Emerson and Declan watching a movie. They showed me an app on the television with hundreds of movies, but it became too overwhelming to pick so I let them. It’s a choice that I’m coming to realize was a mistake because the movie they chose has so much sex.

Both of them are occasionally scrolling on their phones and seem generally unaffected by what’s happening on the screen. I can’t say the same for myself. As I watch the actors touch each other, heat builds within me.

Declan glances over at me as I reposition my legs, squeezing them together to ease the ache building between my thighs. He arches a brow in question, but I just shake my head. Hopefully he’ll just assume I’m uncomfortable.

It’s not untrue. I am uncomfortable. Just not for a reason I want him to know.

The sex scene in this movie feels unending. Is it actually porn? It shouldn’t last this long, right? I watch as the man slides under the covers and the woman’s lips part in ecstasy. I want to know how that feels.

I shoot to my feet, moving way too fast to be natural, but I can’t sit here any longer. Without a word I start to leave the room and head upstairs.

“Where are you going?” Emerson asks.

“I forgot some work I need to finish for class tomorrow.” I don’t wait around to see what he says.

I hustle up the steps and down the hall to my room. As soon as the door closes behind me, I slump against it and flick the lock closed. I know what I want to do, I just don’t know if I can.

Touching myself isn’t something I was allowed to do. My father made his thoughts crystal clear on masturbation. I have the scars to prove it.

But he’s not here to stop me. He can’t shame me anymore.

I walk over to my bed and lie down on top of the covers. My shorts are loose enough that I can slide my hand under the waistband easily. I run my fingers over my panties, fighting the shame of the forbidden until I feel a damp patch of material. Heat rushes to my cheeks at the evidence of how turned on I got from a movie that didn’t even affect the two guys watching it with me.

Pleasure bursts through me as I press a little harder, my finger sliding into my folds with only a cotton barrier. I gasp when I drag my finger upward hitting what must be my clit. It’s the only thing that could feel that good. My toes curl as I experiment with different touches, seeing what feels best and what doesn’t.

I’ve almost gained enough confidence to slide my panties to the side and touch myself with no barrier when the disembodied voice of my father sounds within my subconscious.

Only wicked, evil girls touch themselves, Harper. Do you want to spend eternity in hell serving Satan? Or do you want to marry a good man? Because no good man is going to accept a wicked woman as his wife.

I can almost smell the combination of burnt skin and cigarette smoke as his words filter back through my mind. My hand moves out of my shorts and up to my side where the scars from the burns are. Some have smoothed over and are now just barely visible while there are others that are still pink and rough.

I grab one of my pillows and throw it across the room. I hate him. I hate every memory of him. Will there ever be a point in my life where his voice isn’t haunting the back of my mind? He was the wicked one. He is a felon, a phony, a hypocrite. Yet here I am, fighting to find myself and enjoy my second chance at life.

A bang and muffled curse from upstairs is enough to pull me from my pity session. All of a sudden my room feels too confining, like a box closing in on me even though it’s far from it. Another muffled curse is all it takes for me to get up and head toward the door at the end of the hall.

It creaks as I open it to find a set of steep dark wooden stairs. Much like the door leading to them, each step makes a noise as I put my weight on them. I’m starting to fall in love with the old house and all her creaks and cracks.

The attic is a wide-open space with the same dark wood floors as the rest of the house. The walls are angled and white. No shades cover the dormer windows, allowing light to flood the space on all sides, even late into evening the last rays of sun filter through. A large bed is shoved in one corner with a dresser and desk. Most of the space is taken up by easels, canvases, and shelves full of paint and supplies.

My eyes find Cy, shirtless and distracted, as he looks at canvas covered in angry black and red streaks. He looks sinfully good. His hair is piled on top of his head with a paintbrush tucked over ear and another one in his hand. The sweatpants he’s wearing are covered in splotches of paint in all different colors .

He looks over his shoulder at me. “Hey, what brings you to my lair?”

“I heard a crash and then you swearing up here.”

“Yeah.” He points to a small puddle of paint on the floor. “I dropped that, and it spilled. Did I disturb you?”

“No, not at all. It was a good distraction.” I walk over to look closer at the half-finished canvas in front of us. “What’s this going to be?”

“That’s the million-dollar question.” He sighs and runs his hand over his forehead, smearing gray paint on his temple.

“It looks angry,” I murmur. The slashes of deep red, black, and charcoal look violent, like he dipped his brush in frustration and anger along with paint.

“Probably because it is.”

“It is, or you are?” I turn my attention from his painting to his face.

“Both.”

He holds my gaze until the intensity of his dark eyes makes mine drop. That’s a mistake though because I’m less than a foot away from him, and now all I can see are the tattoos covering much of his skin and the silver barbells piercing his nipples. A large white scar cuts across his ribs. Without thinking I lift my fingers to the puckered skin, running them lightly along its length.

“How did you get this?” I ask quietly.

“Being young and stupid.” His voice is just as hushed as mine. “Didn’t hurt as much as some of my piercings though.”

“Which hurt the most?” I look up at him.

“One you haven’t seen yet.”

My brows scrunch together as I look down at him trying to figure out what I missed.

He chuckles. “Want me to drop my pants, so you can see it in all its glory?”

“Oh.” My eyes drop to the sizable bulge between us as I realize he’s talking about his penis. “I…ouch.”

“It’s an apadravya. You definitely wouldn’t be thinking ouch if you felt it.”

“You might as well be speaking another language for all I know.” I look up at him with an amused smile.

“I can show you,” he says with a cheeky grin and his hand tugging on the drawstring tie of his pants.

“I’d probably faint.” I shake my head. It’s mind boggling to me how easy it is for him to put me at ease. But curiosity has gotten the best of me. “Can I ask you one thing though?”

“Anything. ”

“Can I touch them?” I gesture to his nipples.

“You can touch any part of me you want, angel. Whenever.” His eyes bore into mine with fathomless intensity.

“I’ve been thinking about getting a tattoo or piercing. Something that would really piss my dad off if he ever saw it.” I lift my thumb to his nipple, gently running it over his warm skin. I watch as it hardens under my touch and goosebumps erupt from the flesh on his chest. I should probably stop seeing the reaction that got, but I can’t.

I do the same thing to his other nipple. A mental image of my own nipples being pierced enters my mind. I picture him doing to me what I’m doing to him and heat races to my core. It makes me curious, so I glance down to see that the already impressive bulge is now even more noticeable.

I look back up into his eyes seeking permission to follow my impulses. I don’t know what I’m doing. Somehow, he knows I need guidance so one of his hands wraps around my wrist and slowly pulls it down his chest. His muscles quiver under my fingertips. He’s just about guided me to his erection, when the sound of footsteps on the stairs up to his room startle us.

I take a huge step back, my cheeks flaming hot at being so caught up. When I sneak a glance at Cy, he looks irritated.

Declan rounds the stairs with a worried look on his face. “We can’t find Harp?—”

Emerson runs into his back as he stops immediately.

“Thank fuck.” Declan’s body relaxes. “We were worried when we came upstairs and saw your door wide open.”

“Sorry.” Guilt surges through me as I see the worry in their faces. “I heard a noise up here and came to check it out.”

“You could try knocking next time.” Cy says as he turns back to his canvas. “You scared the fuck out of her.”

“I should get back to my work.” I slip past them and start down the stairs. “Good night.”

After another restless night I know the first place I need to go is the coffee shop on campus. Someone bumps into me as I’m standing in line and studying the menu trying to figure out what is going to pack the biggest punch. I move to the left but don’t say anything or take my headphones off .

“Earth to Harper!” I look over and see Saylor with a big smile on her face.

“Sorry.” I pull the headphones off and drop them into my bag. “I was zoning out while I decide on what to get.”

“I could tell,” she says with a laugh. “Long night? I hope the boys are being respectful.”

“They are. It’s all my own stuff.”

She gives me a sympathetic look as we move forward in the line. “I know we just met, but if you ever need to talk to someone, I’m here. I’m not going to judge you or anything.”

“Thank you. That means a lot.”

I order my iced coffee offering silent thanks for the student charge option at Trinity. We chat for a few more minutes taking advantage of Declan standing in the corner talking to a few guys from the soccer team. I feel his eyes linger on me as I listen to Saylor explain how she and Lou met at this coffee shop last year. We say our goodbyes and make loose plans to have a girls’ night soon.

Declan laughs at something one of his teammates says as I turn and walk over to him. He introduces me to the guys before they leave. I memorize their names like I was taught to, it’s automatic at this point. Dad always said it was the easiest way to show respect to people of importance.

I shake thoughts of him free from my mind. I wish there was a magic pill I could take to erase him from my memories. Before I got in line, I told Declan I wanted to run something by him, and now that it’s just us, I’m starting to get nervous.

“What did you want to talk about?” he asks.

Of course he remembers. Now or never, I guess.

“I reached out to Amanda at the stables about getting a part-time job. She said they were looking to hire another hand, and because I have years of experience with horses, she offered me the position.”

“No.”

“What do you mean no?” I cross my arms and dig my feet in. “I didn’t realize you were in charge of my life choices.”

“You don’t need to work. Dad can give you whatever you need.”

“I know, and I appreciate it so much, but I’d really like to be able to start saving up for when I’m on my own.”

“Money won’t ever be a problem for you. You should focus on classes. ”

“Cillian shouldn’t be responsible for funding my life when he just entered it ten minutes ago.”

“He doesn’t mind. We have more money than we could spend in ten lifetimes.”

“Good for you.” I roll my eyes.

“Why are you being so stubborn about this?” He glowers down at me, his green eyes dark and stormy.

Is he serious? Can he not see why I’d want to carve some independence out here?

“Because I don’t ever want to be reliant on a man again. I don’t want to give someone a chance to hang anything over my head to force me to do what they want. I don’t want to answer to anyone but myself.”

His expression softens. “We’re not going to do that. It’s just that logistically you having a job makes everything harder schedule wise. Emerson and I have practice and games. Cy has whatever the fuck he has going on. Let’s just table it for now.”

I’ll let him think it’s been tabled for now, but I’m doing this. I give him a brief nod of acquiescence along with a weak smile. I’ve had a lifetime of smiling and nodding, at least I can use that experience to my benefit now.

He leads me out of the building and down the paved walkway toward the lecture hall my first class is in today. I haven’t received any more creepy letters, so I decide to try another tactic. It’s worth a shot.

“Have you intercepted any other letters?” I ask as I fall into step beside him.

“No.” He looks over at me. “Why?”

“Do you think it was just a random thing? Some creep with too much time on their hands?”

“Maybe.”

“Can I start going places alone?”

“No.”

“How long do we have to do this?”

“Until we know you’re safe.”

I grab his arm to stop him mid-stride. “Look around.” I throw my arms wide. “No one is jumping out of bushes to grab me. There are no stalkers hiding behind the trees.”

“That you can see. Why take the risk until we know for sure that it was a one off?”

We stand facing each other on the sidewalk, each of us reluctant to let the other win. The urge to stomp my feet and throw a fit simmers beneath the surface. I’ve never given into that desire, and I won’t start now, but I want to.

Everything about Declan makes me want to fight. His arrogance. His attitude. The way that it always has to be his way or the highway, except in my case, there’s just his way.

“Why do you care so much?” I ask.

He flinches at the question. “Are you serious?”

“Yes. I don’t get it.”

His eyes search mine. There’s a brief flash of vulnerability in his eyes before he smothers it with a fake, smug smile. He reaches behind my head and pulls the ribbon free from my hair.

“Guess you’ll have to figure it out, then,” he says with a smirk.

He starts walking again while I smother the urge to scream.

“I really hate when you do that.”

“I know.”