Page 72 of Chasing Sarah

Sarah is climbing out of the car before I’ve even shifted into park. I roll my neck, trying to alleviate the ache in my muscles.

With a sigh, I climb out and follow Sarah toward the elevator.

“So, what are we going to do today?” she asks, plopping herself on my bed.

An idea sparks to life. “How do you feel about sparring?”

If she refuses to talk, maybe this is a way I can get her to release an emotion other than her usual upbeat persona.

Excitement morphs her face, and she shimmies with giddiness. “Are you for real?”

I laugh at the level of enthusiasm she shows.

“Of course; you said you wanted me to teach you a few moves.” Reaching back, I grip the collar of my shirt and tug it over my head. I chuckle softly when her heated gaze appraises my muscled chest, shoulders, and down my stomach. “Get changed.”

I spin and stride toward the closet before she begins stripping. If I see any part of her delicious body beneath her clothes, the only physical activity we will be doing will be of the horizontal type.

Even the subtle sound of fabric being stripped sends my blood rushing. I pinch my eyes closed willing the arousal away.

My movements are rushed as I scramble to change.

The silence of my room gives me pause when I move to tug my gym shorts up my legs. The heat of Sarah’s body meets my back. Her elegant fingers lightly wrap around my biceps. Every single nerve ending is set ablaze. The deliciously addictive scent of her perfume wraps around me.

My flesh pebbles at the warmth of her breath caressing my skin. “Ready?” I croak like a damned teenager going through puberty.

“Mhm.” She gives my arms a slight, gentle squeeze before releasing and stepping away.

Focus, Rhys. Don’t let your over eager dick distract you.

The fabric of my shorts unfortunately draws attention to said dick. Sarah’s eyes immediately fall to the tented fabric when I turn toward her and a smirk tugs at her lips.

Playful Sarah is back.

I can’t decide how I feel about it.

It’s been one week since I started working for Damien. One week and I’ve been able to collect enough money to substantially help my family. Have I thought about how I’m going to actually give them the money? Unfortunately, no.

I can’t just go up to Xander and say ‘Hey, bro. I’ve been helping the local drug dealer sell drugs, but don’t worry, I’m making good money.’

If I did that, I’d be digging my own grave in the backyard next to the hamster I had when I was 8.

The school bell rings, signaling the end of the school day. My jaw is sore from the number of yawns that came outof me today. It’s been mentally, physically, and emotionally exhausting sneaking around behind my brothers’ backs. I can’t find it in me to feel bad about the drug dealing. What I’m doing is to help my family. That has to count for something, right?

I’ve been lucky enough not to have dealt with that creep the first night again. Just the thought of him makes my skin crawl.

After shoving my belongings in my backpack, I step out of the classroom and make my way to the bus.

“Sarah, wait up!” Colson’s voice reaches me over the wave of students in the hallway. His bookbag bounces against his back as he weaves in between everyone in his path. I slow my steps, allowing him to catch up.

He drapes his arm over my shoulders and leans close to my ear. “There’s a fight tonight.” Excitement coats his voice.

“Where? When?”

I’m supposed to be meeting a buyer tonight. If there is a fight, that means my brothers will be out. There is no way I’ll be able to sneak away without at least one of them noticing.

Shit.

“Starts at 11, over by the old Adam’s farm.”

---