Page 211 of Falling in Reverse

I look over to him. “You don’t?—”

“I’m not going to leave you a mess in the middle of a movie unless it’s at our house. We’ll have men sniffing around in heat over you.”

My nose wrinkles at the disgusting analogy. “Are you serious?”

“Dead.”

Reeve chuckles. “Yeah, that’s gonna be a no-go. Plus, I can use my shirt now to jack off to tonight.”

God…

“Did you really have to say that in front of me?” Torin rebuffs.

“What?” Reeve shrugs his shoulders. “We just did all that other shit with you.”

“That was in the moment and I didn’t have to think of your cum.”

I lightly pound on Torin’s shoulder with a closed fist. “But you’ll think of mine? That was teamwork, Pretty Boy.”

“Dude’s half-ass backward, McQueen.” Reeve presses a chaste kiss to my cheek. “I’ll miss you. Save me a smile, baby.”

Torin helps slide my leggings back up my thighs with precision, super focused on it before he’s ripping me out of my chair and into his chest. His arms envelop possessively around my waist and bend forward over my face.

“See you around, Wildfire,” he imparts, his palm sliding right above my ass. “Be a good girl and?—”

“Stay out of The Landings,” I drone with a roll of my eyes. “Yeah.”

“I mean it,” he grounds out. “Stay out.”

“Doesn’t my pussy come with special privileges, or—” Reeve slaps my ass, getting a small gasp to escape my throat as Torin rubs it away.

Or uses the opportunity to touch it, you choose.

“Not when it comes to you traipsing in The Landings,” Torin replies. He bends over, giving me an innocent kiss before he and Reeve amble down the darken rows.

This isn’t going to end well.

I need to get ahold of my physical state and get it to link up with my brain. Reeve may be genuine, but Torin…I don’t believe he’s not out to snatch my whole damn soul.

FIFTY-THREE

bay

My aged and hideous baby blue ice cream truck cruises the evening streets like it’s any other warm night on a Wednesday.

I’ve actually been stopped several times and had the obnoxious ass music on when I went through residential areas to keep up with my low-key disguise.

Levi’s idea worked, buying cheap Dollar Store popsicles that I barely made the kids pay for, but with whatever change they had in their pockets because—just no. I have a few bags of weed shoved in the back. I’m not charging up the ass for flavored ice.

Stopping at a stoplight, I realize I only have about three miles out before I’m out of The Landings and in the clear. I’ve already texted Levi a few updates that I was fine before sending him another about how far away I am.

When the light turns green, I’m on my merry way, before a sudden thrust to the side of my truck sends it careening to the left on two tires and finishing its untimely journey of slamming into the hard concrete. Glass shatters in my ear and, even with my seatbelt on, my whole left side hurls into the metal door.

I feel the throbbing pain immediately in my skull. My vision catching up to focus on my surroundings as I blink at the steering wheel and the fact that I’m still conscious.

Slowly swiveling my neck to the center console, my cell is nowhere to be found—shocker—so I begin to move my legs.

Bad idea.

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