Page 82 of Wreck Me

But I couldn’t broach the subject to her.

Caleb had already attempted it, pretending he’d just been going off those texts he’d seen when he’d infiltrated her phone.

It had been much more than that, though.

We knew about him.

She couldn’t be made aware of that yet.

I couldn’t imagine her reacting well.

Until we pulled her further inside our world, the risk of her turning tail was too high. With how she’d grown on me and somehow managed to get under my skin in such an irreversible way, just the idea of that made me sick inside.

It wasn’t part of the plan.

The actual plan was all that should matter to me, all that would’ve mattered not long ago.

But now, I couldn’t give two fucks about that.

She’d imprinted herself on me and that was what I was focused on.

I pulled the covers up to her chin, not trusting myself, especially while she was in my shirt, and I forced a hell of a lot of effort to actually ease away and climb out of her bed.

Any longer and I’d be waking her up with my tongue between her thighs.

After how hard I’d gone on her last night, I doubted she’d be up for that.

I’d already gotten a good look at her cunt and it was still red-raw from my slaps. Her skin was marked all over too, and her hot little ass had to be sore beyond belief.

Mmm. I bet her throat was too after how she’d throat-fucked herself like a feral thing with my cock. Jesus fuck, I’d never encountered anything like it. The way she could not only take what I dealt out, but push it so much further too, and demand that from me… it was out of this world.

I adjusted my boxers, trying to calm my hard-on down, as I snatched up my phone that I’d put on the bedside table, then made my way quietly out of the bedroom and headed downstairs.

Unlike the home I’d grown up in, and that which Damien still lived in with our mom and whatever trophy male she’d gotten her claws into—it switched up every month of so—Skylar’s home wasn’t old world, Victorian-style décor with gaudy and ostentatious displays of wealth, it was modern and sleek, with a minimalistic design.

It served to highlight the difference between our mothers’ approaches to their real estate businesses too. The old world over-abundance of luxury of Rossun Real Estate versus the modern and oftentimes edgy designs that The Bennett Group had to offer.

My goal with my current project was actually to blend the two opposing styles—a tall order, no doubt, but I was always up for a challenge.

My mom wouldn’t be happy about that. She wanted me to go her route, to emulate RRE’s style, but that just wasn’t my thing. She’d have to be satisfied enough that I was following the Architecture path as it was.

Besides, my dad had wanted to veer more toward modernizing things and moving away from the unattainable luxury that RRE had become known for. I’d thought Mom would honor him by finally agreeing to do that, to move beyond her comfort zone and her unbelievable stubbornness. But she hadn’t. She’d basically doubled down instead. When I’d gone through my dad’s things shortly after his death, I’d actually found documentation pertaining to a deal he’d had in the works with Maria Bennett, his plans to work with her on a slew of upcoming projects. When my mom had taken the reins, though, all that had gone to hell because of her hatred toward Skylar’s mother.

At first, I’d thought that hatred had been rooted in their high school dynamic. They’d both attended the hoity toity private school that me, Damien, Caleb, and Caspian had, and they’d been bitter rivals. Vivian Thorn had been the Queen Bee and Maria Bennett had been the edgy outsider who’d been dragged by my mom for her differences. But for that to still be going strong so many years later, it had lent weight to there being more to it. So I’d investigated and found an unsavory connection between Maria and my dad. One I sure as fuck wasn’t going to tell Skylar about. That would just further complicate everything. Fortunately, I’d already had time to absorb it and shove it into the background. My mom clearly hadn’t, though. It came through in her clear favoritism toward Damien because he wasn’t so much like my dad like I was, in her poor treatment of me through her reaction to my descent into drug abuse and alcoholism, and how she continued to dishonor my dad’s memory in so many ways, with her business decisions, and her taking a trophy lover every couple of months and bringing them to the Thorn Estate, letting them stay there like they fucking belonged, and like my dad never had.

Fuck.

I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment, trying to get a handle on my raging thoughts.

I hadn’t entertained any of that for a long time.

Because I’d been successfully shut down.

But now, since this mind-fuck that was my every interaction with Skylar Bennett, other things had come trickling out too, like they were trying to burst through the floodgates.

I needed to focus on a task.

As I passed by the kitchen, all sleek silver appliances with black marble countertops and an island doubling as a breakfast bar, that task came to mind.

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