Page 58 of Not Your Little Girl Anymore

I suck in a large breath, my eyes roaming around the room. Alec’s room.

I slept in Alec’s bed. I reach out, spreading my fingers against the other side of the bed. It’s empty. There is no evidence that Alec slept in here with me.

I push myself up and scoot off the bed. My stomach flips when I look down and notice a pair of Alec’s black sweatpants on me. Swinging my head around, I look for my shorts but come up empty.

My feet drag against the soft carpet in his room, and I carefully turn the doorknob, trying to remain as quiet as possible. Heat scorches between my legs when I open the door to see Alec sprawled out on the couch. He’s on his stomach in nothing but a pair of boxers.

My pulse rockets, along with that longing ache between my thighs.

I look around the room and spot my shoes and the shorts I was wearing neatly folded by the television, followed by my phone.

I tiptoe, trying my best to stay as quiet as I can so I don’t wake him. But I fail tremendously.

He lifts his head, his gaze dropping from my mouth down my frame, and my cheeks heat from how he stares at me hungrily.

“You look damn good in my pants.”

My head drops, but the smile on my face says it all. “I tried not to wake you.”

He flips onto his back, his arms resting behind his head. “I was already awake.”

I steal small glimpses of him through my lashes, admiring the tattoo across his chest. I never did get a good look at it. A pair of angel wings, ethereal and unfurling with a captivating elegance. A subtle shade of purple seamlessly blends into each feather.

It’s beautiful.

“Did you sleep out here all night?” I ask.

He nods, though his eyes remain closed. “You fell asleep. I didn’t want to wake you.”

I nod, even though he didn’t acknowledge it. “And the pants?”

His lips quirk upward. “I promise, I didn’t see beyond your panties.”

“I suppose we’re even then.” I tease, considering that I, too, haven’t seen beyond.

“I suppose so.”

I press my fingers to my forehead and chuckle in disbelief. “How did you manage to move me and undress me, and not wake me up?”

He shrugs, looking back at me. “Surprisingly, you’re a heavy sleeper.”

I’m typically a pretty normal sleeper, but given that I haven’t slept great the past couple of weeks, I suppose it has caught up to me. My subconscious self must feel comfortable here.

Bending down, I pick up my phone and shorts. My phone lights up in my palm, but as soon as I look at it, my stomach cramps, and anxiety creeps in.

Alec notices my mood shift, gets up and tugs his pants on. “What’s wrong?”

I look at him, fear lodged in my throat. “My dad.”

Chapter Twenty-two

Alec

Her own fucking father hit her, and she’s really thinking about going back.

The words are a broken record inside my head, skipping and tumbling. I’m trying to make sense of it, but nothing makes any fucking sense.

Does it surprise me that he might be guilty of murder? Not a chance. But what surprises me is that he put his fucking grimy hands on his daughter. Hurt her and nearly shattered her into pieces.

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