Page 44 of The Good Girl

“You might hate me right now, but you like my dick, so maybe aim for my heart instead.”

“I would if I thought you had one,” I snap.

“Ouch, that hurts, baby. You wound me.” He covers his heart with his hand and grins as a boom of thunder makes me jump.

“It’s not funny. I’m mad, Havoc. So beyond mad, mad doesn’t even come close to how mad I am.”

He takes a step closer, his expression softening. “I get it, Cupcake. And you’ve got every right to be pissed at me. What I did was fucked up.”

I relax a little. “So you’ll take me home?”

“I never planned to keep you here forever.” He chuckles. “Just long enough for you to fall in love with me. But now I know I’ll have to try something else.”

Finally, I let out a sigh of relief and drop the knife, letting it crash to the floor before I accidentally cut myself with the damn thing. He picks it up and takes it back to the kitchen, dropping it into the sink.

“I’ll just run upstairs to grab a hoodie or something to wear home.”

“It’s late and it’s raining again. It’s best if we stay here tonight.”

I open my mouth to protest, but he slips off his cut and places it over the arm of the couch.

“The storm is rolling in and I’m exhausted after the last couple of days. I’d never forgive myself if I had an accident and hurt you or someone else.”

“Fine.” I sigh, lifting my hand and pointing my finger at him. “But we’re leaving tomorrow, Havoc. No excuses.”

I spin around, stomp upstairs to the bedroom, and climb into bed. I’d been tossing fitfully when I heard his bike pull up, jumping at every noise or creak the house made. When Havoc walks up and starts getting undressed, I pull the covers up to my chin and tuck them tight around me.

“You can sleep on the couch,” I mutter.

He doesn’t reply, but I know he heard me. So, I’m not surprised when he ignores me and climbs in behind me, pulling me back into him.

“This isn’t the couch, Havoc.”

“I sleep with my woman.” He buries his face in my hair and sighs, content.

“I am not your woman.”

“Yet,” he murmurs.

The rain lashes against the windows as I stare at the alarm clock beside the bed and watch as the numbers change from 1:32 to 1:33, then from 1:34 to 1:35. The last twenty-four hours have felt like they were a month long. Part of me wonders if I died in a plane crash on the way to London, and this is all some twisted version of the afterlife. I shift slightly, and his arms tighten around me.

Eventually, his arms loosen, and I know he’s asleep. Even though I can pull away now, I stay where I am, trying to figure out exactly where things started to go wrong. After an hour of replaying everything in my mind, it all comes back to one person:

Hoops.

The stupid prospect that got me drunk. If it weren’t for him, I’d still be living my quiet little life as Amity’s sidekick, slowly building up the courage to stand up to my dad. But now, because of that man and his stupidly delicious drinks, I’m no longer a virgin, and I’ve lost most of my self-respect.

The question is: where do I go from here?

What Havoc’s proposing is ridiculous. Once he comes to his senses, he’ll move on to someone more suitable. I’m okay with that, but I won’t be if this goes on much longer. The longer it does, the more I worry that I’ll fall for him, only for him to break my heart. And I’ve had enough heartbreak to last a lifetime.

With my mind racing, and panic flooding my system, I ease out of bed and head downstairs. I flick the light on above the stove so I don’t wake up Havoc but freeze when I see his bike keys on the counter. I look up at the bedroom. He told me he’d take me home in the morning, but something tells me it won’t be quite that easy.

Sliding my sneakers on, I grab the keys and open the door, wincing when it creaks. I pause, listening for Havoc’s footsteps,but when I don’t hear them, I slip outside into the rain and carefully close the door behind me.

The rain soaks me before I’ve taken more than a few steps, the sound of everything else is drowned out under the onslaught of the storm. I have no business being outside in this weather wearing next to nothing but I have to get out of here, even if some part of me rejects the idea.

I make my way down the front steps, tripping on the bottom one and nearly face-planting. The rain is one thing, but the lack of streetlights makes everything ten times worse.

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