Page 91 of A Little Tempting

REEVES

My wrists are raw as I stare at the two-way mirror on my left. I should’ve known fate would deal me a shit hand tonight. Should’ve known my dad would wind up on campus. Any chance he has to fuck me over, he’s always first in line. The fact he’s made a point of spreading lies about me to all of his buddies doesn’t help, either. Fuck, pretty sure any officer from the Lockwood Heights Police Department would pull out the cuffs as soon as they saw me, thanks to dear old Dad’s after-work ramblings when he’s downed three too many beers. Too bad none of his accusations hold any weight.

It doesn’t matter, though. Not to them, anyway.

Rolling my shoulders, I look at the ceiling as the clock ticks on the wall.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

Get your ass out here, boy, or I’ll get my belt!

Tick. Tick. Tick.

What the fuck you been doin’, boy?

Tick. Tick. Tick.

I could kill you, boy. I could kill you, and no one would bat an eye. No one would miss you. Fuck. No one would even notice.

The door hinges squeak, snapping me back to the present as the heavy metal door opens, revealing my sperm donor.

Disgust oozes through me, leaving a black, oily trail along my skin, but I don’t cower. Can’t wait to get the fuck out of here and shower, even though I know I’ll still feel dirty afterward. It’s how it is with me and my dad. Every interaction takes weeks for me to recover from. To let his bullshit words go.

“Hello, boy.”

“Where’s your partner?” I ask.

“He’ll be here in a minute. Figured I’d start without him.”

Of course, he did.

I rip my gaze from his to stare at the dried blood on my knuckles.

“So, who’s the girl?” he prods.

It shouldn’t surprise me, but it does. His question. Where his mind is. It doesn’t make me feel any better.

“She’s pretty,” he notes.

My lips gnash together.

“Seemed enamored with you,” he adds. “You like her?”

My attention shifts from my knuckles to the red, angry skin beneath the metal cuffs.

Fuck, those are gonna leave a mark.

“Nothin’ to say?” he asks.

We’ve played this game often. More times than I can count. I never struggled to remain indifferent. Unaffected. By whatever bullshit he spews at me. But this time? It’s harder. Because this time? I have something to lose.

“Dylan Thorne,” he says thoughtfully. “Pretty name for a pretty girl. Can’t figure out what she sees in you.”

I clench and unclench my fists, letting the pull of my bruised knuckles ground me.

“Not very talkative today, huh, boy?”

The pressure in my jaw strengthens, but I don’t bother answering.

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