Well, well, well.
What do we have here?
I release Mary’s lips and trail kisses up her jaw to her neck. My focus solely on Jonah, I’m betting I could count his heartbeats by the throb of the vein in his forehead. When my teeth graze Mary’s neck, his dick twitches.
A wicked smile turns up my lips. Very interesting.
Chapter Eight
Jonah
My blood boils as Roman stares at me while kissing my sister. Surrounded by classmates that let him get away with anything, I storm off. Hopefully, Mary isn’t stupid enough to let him feel her up or have sex with her right there in the kitchen in front of everyone.
This move has been the worst decision our father has ever made. Mary is going down a bad path, and nothing I say will stop her. Not to mention me, lusting after a guy that treats me like shit. He likes to rile me up, push me, but I don’t get why. He’s a spoiled rich kid that’s never had consequences, and it shows.
Out on the back porch, there’s fewer people out here and I’m able to settle down a bit. There’s a big bonfire and people are standing around, just hanging out and drinking. It’s calmer out here under the night sky with the blasting music muffled to a dull roar.
Needing to walk off the frustration coursing through me, I wander around the wrap-around porch. The shadows swallow me, allowing me to really breathe for the first time in hours. The only time I’m ever able to relax is when I’m alone in my room.
Having to hide my preference for men—always being on constant alert to make sure I don’t stare too long, that I don’t say something about not being interested in girls, or having to fake being interested so no one suspects—is exhausting and I’m tired of it. Why can’t I just be accepted for who I am?
Leaning against the porch railing, I sigh, a soul-deep sound. My shoulders drop and my head falls forward to hang down as I close my eyes. I don’t know how long I stand there, lost in the peace of being alone. I can hide in the shadows, finally able to breathe. This is the last place I want to be. Is it too much to want to feel accepted?
Every once in a while, a laugh floats my way, bits of conversation. Since the first day of school, Roman’s taken Mary under his wing, so to speak, and introduced her to his friends. But me? I get tripped every time I walk past a football player in class. Every. Time. The teachers say nothing except, “Watch your step.”
I’m so buried in my head that I don’t hear footsteps approach me. I don’t notice anyone near me until a hard chest is pressed against my back, furious breath fans over my neck, and firm hands grip my hips with bruising force.
Too stunned to say anything and too scared to move, I wait and hold my breath.
“I think I’ve figured you out, Bible Boy.”
My spine straightens at Roman’s voice, his lips brushing against my skin at the base of my neck as he speaks, causing goosebumps to erupt across my skin.
Dread knots in my stomach. What did he figure out? Did he figure it out? Is he going to tell anyone?
My hips are yanked backward so fast, I have to brace my hands on the wood railing or fall over. I gasp in a breath at the momentary feel of falling, the bottom dropping out of my stomach. His fingers dig into my hips, forcing my back to bend and my ass to press against his crotch. His dick is hard.
Flinging my head around, I try to get a good look at him, but the lack of light hides his face.
What the hell is happening? What is he playing at?
My heart is pounding in my chest as my brain tries to figure out how this will play out.
“What are you doing?”
Roman smiles at me and there is nothing comforting about it. “I’m testing a theory.”
Dread fills my body, every muscle tense and ready to run.
My mouth is dry, making swallowing difficult.
“What theory?” My voice cracks as fear and desire fight inside of me. I can’t trust him, but he feels so good against me.
Roman leans in to whisper in my ear, the scruff on his face scratching my neck has goosebumps spreading across my skin.
“You’re gay, Bible Boy.” The words fall from his lips like he didn’t just sign my death warrant.
Terror like I’ve never known is a wet blanket surrounding me, wrapped so tightly around me that I can’t breathe. I can’t speak, not that I know what to say anyway. What happens now? My breathing is ragged, harsh pants while a million thoughts and scenarios run through my head.
Roman’s hips move, thrusting against my ass. He’s hard. Really hard.
Roman King is gay?
“What are you going to do?” My words are mumbled, my throat too constricted to speak any louder.
“Not sure yet,” he growls low in his chest and thrusts harder against me.
I’ve never hated pants more than I do in this moment. I desperately want to know what it feels like to have his skin against mine. No one has ever touched me like this. I’ve never tried to hook up with a girl since they don’t interest me. I’m a virgin in every way one can be. Pure and waiting for marriage, just like my father demands.
Like the church demands.
And just like that, guilt has my dick deflating and my spine straightening.
“Just stay away from me.” I push against his chest with my forearm and step away from him.
He lets me go, stepping back to lean against the house. I still can’t make out his expression or see much of his face.
“Hard to stay away when I’m taking you out on dates.”
“You’re taking my sister on dates, not me.” The distinction is important. “Where is she?”
“She’s fine.” He shrugs.
“That’s not what I asked. Where is she?”
He says nothing; he just shrugs again.
“If you aren’t interested in her, stop playing with her.”
“Oh, but where’s the fun in that?” His tone is laced with amusement and it has my teeth grinding.
Walking away from him and the confusing mess he turns me into, I step into the light on the back of the porch. Around the fire pit, Mary and a few cheerleaders are sitting, drinking from Solo cups. She’s having a good time.
Roman’s footsteps stop behind me, still covered by the shadows. “She’s a good girl. A good Bible-thumping girl that I look forward to corrupting.”
My jaw clenches and anger flares in my gut. He’s a spoiled asshole and nothing more.
He steps around me and heads toward Mary, wrapping his arm around her shoulder and grabbing her cup to take a drink. He looks back at me and winks with that stupid smirk on his face.
I hate him.
Chapter Nine
Roman
By the time I get home Saturday morning, my parents are nowhere to be seen, doing God knows what. From the look of the living room, he was drunk last night. Again. The broken shit has guilt eating at me. I wasn’t here to protect her.
Pulling my phone from my pocket, I send her a quick message to apologize for not being here and head upstairs to take a shower.
The steam billows out of the shower, filling the room with heat. The spray beats down on my shoulders, hot pellets that both sting and soothe. My body aches. Knowing I’m almost out of here, I’m almost out of this fucking house, is both a blessing and a curse. There’s an end in sight; the abuse is almost fucking finished. But I’m so fucking tired of it. I don’t know how much more I can take. Once I leave, how long will take that fucker to kill Momma? She won’t leave. She’s tried before, but he found her. It almost cost her life. If I hadn’t come home when I did, I’m positive he would have killed her.