Vote Then Read: Volume II

by Lauren Blakely

  “Truth…” He narrowed his eyes, seeing through me.

  “Did you beat up Alaric and Geoff?” I noticed his knuckles were abraded, not quite bloody, but something had definitely happened.

  He nodded slowly, curving his lips to blow a puff of smoke to the side and out of my face.

  “Why?” I asked.

  He smiled slowly, shaking his head. “My turn. Truth or promise?”

  I bit my lip, my turn to look away. Away from his deep eyes.

  But then his thumb was at my lip, pulling it from my teeth, and I was drawn back to him. I could taste the coppery remains on his thumb.

  My gut somersaulted.

  Pancaked.

  Bottomed out.

  He was Theo Hound and he was my enemy. So why did I want him to push his thumb deep into my mouth? Why was I stuck on the way he was watching me? Why were his lips the only thing I could focus on?

  Sucking the smoky taste off them.

  We were getting too close.

  I was going to get hurt, again.

  I jumped up. “I have to go.”

  He took a slow drag, staring up at me, eyes sharp. “That’s not how this works.”

  “I don’t care.”

  He looked almost disappointed, then stamped the cigarette out, smashing it into the AC + TH before standing up.

  “You owe me.”

  On our way back to the party, we passed by Alaric and Geoff. They’d since cleaned up, but their eyes were black. When they saw us, they flipped us the bird with a laugh. I kept walking, because fuck those guys, but Theo stopped. Full stop.

  “Did they apologize to you?” he all but growled.

  “What?”

  “Did they say they were sorry?”

  “Uh… no?” Was he kidding? Alaric and Geoff say sorry?

  I kept walking and was nearly at the patio when I noticed Theo had changed direction—toward Alaric and Geoff. He expertly grabbed them and had them incapacitated before I reached him.

  “Theo, what are you doing?”

  We were just inside the many open French doors that led to the patio, barely shielded by Mother’s favorite potted black orchids. The cello’s haunting shiver ghosted on the wings of feathery ocean air, servants would be coming in and out, and, if anyone looked in our direction, they would see us.

  He grabbed them both by the collars, thrusting them in front of me. “Apologize.”

  They winced. “Fuck off, dog.”

  Theo used to get in fights when we were kids. It was a weekly occurrence. He was the wild dog I’d let into our china shop, and it wasn’t uncommon for him to be outmatched. He’d give a good fight, but he always got his ass kicked.

  I’d always had to clean him up. He’d never understood why it hurt me so much, but then, I’d never understood why he had to fight. I’d always had people talk shit about me.

  He forced them to their knees with a yelp of pain. “Apologize.”

  “Theo, it’s okay—” I attempted, hoping to stave off the moment it changed and Theo was thrown to the ground.

  “Apologize,” his command caught on a growl.

  They met my eyes, their own burning with hate. “Sorry,” they gritted out at the same time.

  I barely had a moment to register shock before Theo had thrown them both down. They laid their hands out just in time to stop from smacking their heads against the marble.

  “Let’s go,” Theo said.

  He gripped my wrist, stepping over them like they were dog shit and dragging me with him.

  I looked over my shoulder at Alaric and Geoff, still prone, then back at Theo, at his grip, firm yet unbruising on my wrist.

  When had Theo become someone who could not only hold his own but take on Alaric and Geoff? And what the hell did it mean that he’d asked them to apologize to me?

  Nothing.

  It had to mean nothing.

  The alternative was too damning.

  10

  ABIGAIL

  I barely slept, tossing and turning all night. Yellow-gold morning light lit up my room and warmed my bed. Tomorrow is our annual Fourth of July party, and maybe my last chance to gain my mother’s approval.

  Even still, my mind isn’t on Mom.

  It’s on Theo.

  I can’t stop thinking about him. I’m supposed to be above him. He’s my bodyguard, but my strings are attached to him. In public, he stands behind me. In private…

  In private my heart beats for him.

  With a groan, I banged my head against my pillow. I can’t give him that power. This is just lust. I’m over-the-top horny, and once I have a clear head, he won’t have any power.

  I rolled over, fixed on my gilded-ivory crown molding, sliding my hand beneath my silky white sheets and pushing down my panties, sliding my hand between my thighs.

  Theo means nothing. Once I take care of myself, I’ll stop thinking about him.

  I closed my eyes and spread myself, sliding two fingers up and down, slowly finding the right rhythm.

  If I moved these aside, would I find my answer?

  Theo popped into my head. I couldn’t help it. With my eyes closed, his piercing green eyes and cocksure voice consumed me. If I opened my eyes, I could probably banish him, but just imagining his thick, sure fingers between my legs had my body heating, my breath short, and the ache between my legs growing. Theo was a flurry of agonizingly sweet juxtapositions. Rough but silky, gentle and firm.

  He’d left me hanging, but maybe I could force his mirage to finish.

  Do you know what would really get her attention? Fucking your bodyguard.

  His voice was in my ear now. Low and quiet, but never unsure. Almost infuriatingly confident. Like how he’d commanded Alaric and Geoff. That rough, grating growl I only heard when he was consumed with emotion—so Theo. No one ever stood up for me like that—no one.

  Apologize.

  His name was on my tongue, slipping past my lips before I could pull it back.

  “You’re having a good morning.”

  My eyes flew open, finding Theo in the doorway, a slight smirk hooking his lips.

  My heart pounded with the possibilities of what he’d seen… or heard. I lifted my hand from between my legs, prepared to stop and die a slow death somewhere, humiliation coursing hot through my veins, when he growled, “Don’t fucking stop.”

  It was only a split second hesitation.

  I kept going, slower at first. He leaned with one shoulder against the doorframe, glued to me. At first, there was that damn apathy in his gaze. It was infuriating, but somehow so hot.

  There was something about the impassive way he studied me that made my heart pound. It was as if what was happening was no more interesting than finding a penny on the ground. My heart pounded harder to the rhythm of his disinterest. I ached and the knot in my stomach throbbed.

  Everything about this was a shouldn’t, but it did.

  I tried to be stone, too, to show him he meant nothing, that this was nothing, but I couldn’t.

  A whimper escaped my lips, and then his eyes blazed like the joints we’d smoked clandestinely when we were teenagers. I could practically hear the snick of the matches.

  What am I doing?

  I don’t like this.

  I do.

  I like him watching me. I like his hungry, ravenous eyes.

  I like how he pushes his shoulder harder into the frame with my breathing. I like his jaw tightening with the deepening of his brow, the darkening of his gaze.

  I like being on display for him.

  It’s wrong.

  But it makes me feel so good.

  He ran his thumb over his lip, nail digging into the flesh like he wanted to dig into me, and said low and casual: “Faster.”

  I listened, sliding along myself with fervor. My breathing rose in cadence—I couldn’t stop it. I slid inside myself. One finger, two. Wet.

  I’ve never been so wet and I know he can hear it.

  It’s traitorous.
<
br />   It’s not enough.

  I know why, it’s because of him. I’m empty with the memory of Theo’s fingers only feet away, even if they were barely touching me.

  If I were with anyone else, I’d put on a show.

  With him, I’m quiet.

  And God, that’s so much more betraying. Only the sound of my thighs rubbing against the sheets, magnified like thunder, my breathing gusts of wind. He said he wouldn’t need a show, and I can feel the truth of those words. He reads every hand movement, every rise and fall of my chest. I can’t hide from him. I can’t pretend.

  He sees me.

  Theo slid his thumb from his lip, biting the tip. Jaw flexed and eyes hard, like he was memorizing every small movement. I can’t help but imagine his teeth on me, biting into my flesh. Marking me.

  Before I even realized I was about to come, his lip curved. Then I felt it, the pulse, the ache, the throb growing and spreading deeper.

  I can’t take my eyes off him. He’s spurring me further and further. I want to beg him. For what, I don’t know. I’m captive, held taut on this throbbing thread by his half smile, his bitten thumb.

  Then he lowered his head, just a half nod, a quirked brow.

  Go ahead.

  His name was on my lips again as I come completely undone.

  Theo hadn’t said a word as we came downstairs for breakfast, and I was grateful he had to walk behind me. I couldn’t look him in the eye.

  What was I thinking?

  Breakfast was painfully overdone, as always. Even more so, because Mrs. Harlington was now staying with us in anticipation of my impending marriage to her son.

  Her presence was like seeing the executioner at the gallows.

  We had every type of breakfast food available. Fluffy eggs, colorful fruit, sweet and syrupy scones and crepes all laid out on a table stretching the thousand square foot dining room. Morning light streamed in through windows like diamonds.

  All the personal guards were seated at the table today, probably because Mom had noticed the Harlingtons sat with theirs, which meant Theo would sit next to me too. We’d barely taken our seats when my mother’s sickly sweet voice stopped me in my tracks.

  “Did you think I wouldn’t notice?” she asked. “That I wouldn’t know?”

  “I—” I stumbled over my words. “I didn’t… we didn’t…” How could she know? How could she possibly know?

  “What does this look like?” Mom continued.

  “Um… a cherry?” a servant’s weak voice answered.

  Conversations went quiet, all eyes traveling to where she spoke with a servant who’d gone sheet white. I practically sank into my chair. Of course she didn’t know.

  I’d nearly given myself away.

  I refused to look at Theo. I could feel his stare trying to force me, so I smoothed a napkin over my camel-colored leather skirt.

  My mother laughed. “Yes dear, a braindead woman could see that. What does it look like?”

  The girl trembled.

  Opposite my mother, Gray leaned back, arms overhead, a smile growing.

  “Does it look round to you?” My mom trailed manicured nails down her neck, waiting for the maid’s response.

  “Um… no?”

  “Are you asking me?”

  “No?”

  “Are you asking me that too?”

  My mom’s face was pinched in the way she got when dealing with help. It’s not like I’m asking them to solve world hunger, she’d say.

  “Do you want to start your day off with an ugly piece of fruit?”

  The girl shook her head furiously. “No.”

  “Take this,” she sighed, handing the servant a bowl of bright-red cherries that looked perfectly round. She scurried off, mumbling apologies.

  Like clockwork, my mother sighed. “It’s not like I’m asking them to solve world hunger.” The room laughed, and conversation continued.

  “Still seated at the end with the rejects and forgotten,” Theo said, reaching for a glass of water in a crystal goblet.

  I clenched my teeth.

  His cruel words shouldn’t be a surprise but after this morning… they hurt worse.

  “I don’t care about her. I don’t care what they think. They can ship me off to Antarctica for all I care.” I couldn’t help myself. I spared a look down the table where Mom, Gray, and Gemma were seated together, laughing. Was I seated down here alone on purpose?

  Of course I was.

  He laughed, low. “You are so fucking transparent, Reject.”

  I glared at him. If I thought earlier today meant something, that quickly taught me wrong.

  “Well you’re pathetic,” I said. “A pathetic, lonely dog begging for scraps from our table.”

  I folded my napkin neatly in my lap, pressing the silky linen, ignoring him and trying to ignore my family.

  Then I felt it, his hand under the table, sliding up my thigh.

  I jumped.

  “Abigail,” my mother called. “Edward was just here.”

  I lifted my head, trying to see past the row of people between us. “Who?”

  “Your fiancé,” she answered, irritated.

  Excuse me for not knowing the name of someone no one has introduced me to.

  “Had you not spent the morning sleeping, you could’ve said hello.”

  Well, thank fuck for that.

  “We just learned you were in the same class at Rosey,” she continued. “Come share some of your stories with Mrs. Harlington.”

  We’d gone to Rosey together? I tried to remember anyone with the last name Harlington. I’d had no friends, and, like most of my classmates, sobriety wasn’t really optional.

  “He may join us later this week, for the Fourth,” Mrs. Harlington said.

  I was getting used to the idea of having just a name for a fiancé. The idea I’d actually have to meet this Edward and actually marry him, made my throat close.

  “Oh, that would be wonderful…” My mother trailed off.

  I prepared to stand and make up some bullshit when Theo curled his hand inside my thigh, a halting grip. All I could focus on was how close he was. Too close, not close enough. I should’ve worn pants.

  Thank God I didn’t wear pants.

  “Stop,” I whimpered.

  “What were you thinking about?” he whispered. “What had you saying my name like a fucking plea for mercy this morning?”

  “Abigail,” my mother called out again, voice clipped, losing patience.

  “Fuck.” Theo cursed low when he realized I hadn’t put on any panties.

  I focused on my ugly cherry, on keeping my fork from shaking. Not his fingers almost grazing me, igniting goose bumps that invaded my core and made my stomach ache and throb. Not how I wanted him to touch me. How I wanted him deeper, satiating what I couldn’t earlier.

  Why wouldn’t he just go inside me?

  “Abigail!”

  Mother rarely took that tone in public. I was about to stand—conditioned like a fucking dog.

  Theo’s hand on my thigh tightened. “Don’t move.”

  “My mom is calling me,” I said weakly.

  His finger plunged inside me. The fork I was holding dropped to my porcelain plate with a clang.

  “So answer.”

  With him deep inside me?

  “Abigail? Are you trying to make me lose my voice?” Mom had a bored, unaffected tone, one I knew meant she was close to losing her patience.

  “I…”

  Theo pulled out, then pushed back in, deeper, curving his finger at just the right angle. I tried to focus on my breathing and failed.

  What was I going to say? The room blurred. He was hitting that perfect, perfect spot I’d dreamed about this morning. His finger was big and thick and—

  Fuck.

  “Abigail?”

  “I spilled champagne on my dress,” I managed weakly.

  Theo’s low chuckle raced up my spine and made my teeth tingle.

  Mother took
a deep breath. I could picture her nostrils flaring.

  My thighs fell open for him, begging for more. His ruthless rhythm all I knew. More fingers, more pressure, more pace.

  More Theo.

  Theo who had one tantalizing, taunting finger inside me—and was focused only on his food. Eating eggs and talking to the person beside him like he wasn’t driving me to the brink.

  I was going to come. I was going to come on the hand of my bodyguard, surrounded by my family and my soon-to-be mother-in-law.

  My breath shook. The room faded away to nothing.

  Salt. Seawater. Sunscreen.

  Him.

  Him.

  I gripped his thigh beneath the table, trying to anchor myself.

  The only way I knew he even realized what he’d done to me was the way his voice slightly roughened when my grip tightened on his thigh as I came.

  I quickly excused myself to the terrace for air.

  Everything was in technicolor. The salt air brittle in my nose and on my tongue. The wind biting. The sun too bright, its heat on my neck fierce.

  I could still feel him inside me, a throbbing memory.

  I wanted more.

  I couldn’t want more. He didn’t do that to me because he liked me. He did that to me because he knew it would wreck me, humiliate me.

  I gripped the railing to steady myself, when I saw it.

  A single gold rose sitting on the railing, and this time it came with a note.

  See you soon.

  Just like that, fear eclipsed everything. I didn’t want to believe it. I couldn’t believe it. He couldn’t reach me here. I lifted it and pricked myself on the stem.

  “Abigail?”

  I jumped at Theo’s voice, dropping both the rose and note to the sand out of sight. I spun to face him, heart pounding. Blood dripped from my finger into the velvety, soft-white dunes. His eyes sharpened on it.

  “What happened?” he asked, taking a step to me. Any closer he would see the rose, the note.

  “I cut myself on the railing. I don’t know.” My shaking voice betrayed me. Before he could take another step forward, I walked past him. “Come on, dog. Let’s go or Mother will throw a fit.”

  I felt Theo’s suspicion coming off him in waves behind me.

  I couldn’t focus on it, because all I could think was… my stalker had gotten inside Crowne Hall?