Page 12 of The Catalyst

I laugh as I open my locker and throw in my bag, pulling out my things for my first class of the day.

“Aw. Did I steal your thunder?”

“Nah. You can have it.”

What the hell am I doing? I shouldn’t be standing here talking to him like we’re old friends. I should be running as far away from him as I can.

“Are you going to tell me your name?” he asks, and like that, my thoughts of running fly out the window.

I smirk playfully. “Are you going to tell meyours?” I tease, but he just grins.

“Nigel.”

I think I just had a seizure. Nigel? That doesn’t fit him at all. “Like the Thornberries?”

A comical expression covers his features. “Well, notunlikethe Thornberries.”

“Don’t you dare make fun of me. I’m not the one with a weird name.”

“How would I know? You haven’t told me yours yet.”

“Touché.” I close my locker as I roll my eyes. “Bethany is my name, but my friends call me Beth. I use word association so I can remember people’s names easier. If I don’t, I forget them quickly.” His eyes brighten as he listens to me talk. I was probably rambling, but he didn’t seem irritated by it, not like Shawn would get any time I did that.

“So Nigel Thornberry is what you have to tell yourself to remember my name?” he asks, not offended at all. His shoulders are relaxed, and there’s no tension in his features.

“Pretty much. Go ahead. Tell me how weird I am.”

He laughs under his breath before sending me a smile. He takes a step forward until he’s almost touching me. “No, you’re not weird. It’s better that you have a way to remember my name than to scream someone else’s when I’m fucking you, Beth.”

My heart races as the memories flash through my mind. My stomach tenses with desire and my thighs clamp together from the way he poured gasoline on the fire in my cunt. All it took was that one sentence, and my body begged for his touch.

This is so dangerous.

His fingers run over my jaw as he strokes my bottom lip with his thumb. I can’t yell at my body loud enough to get the fuck out of here, to run away from Nigel O’Reilly.

“I…” I take a breath as he leans into me, preparing to steal a kiss from me, but I won’t fall into that trap. “I need to get to class.” I step away from him and turn to flee, but he grabs my hair, stopping my departure. There’s no point in fighting his hold. He’s stronger than me and we both know it. If he wants to hold me in place, he will, and I won’t be able to stop him.

“Why do you keep running from me, butterfly?” he whispers in my ear, holding me back into his body.

Butterfly?

Why is he calling me that?

The memory of the dream that plagued me over and over every night for weeks hits me like a tsunami. The medium gray figure said butterfly too. It's probably just a coincidence though.

My breath comes out sharp as he breathes in my ear, kissing the side of my neck.

“You ran from me after I fucked your tight pussy, just like you’re trying to run now. The only difference is you’re not leaving me your wet panties this time.”

It would be so easy to let him do that again, but once was bad enough I would’ve been better off with the psychopath. He probably wouldn’t have thought to chase me afterward.

“I think you’re putting more stock into it than what it was, Nigel,” I say, barely keeping my words straight.

“Is that so?”

“Absolutely. It was just sex.”

“Think that all you want,” he growls against my neck. “But… I don’t share, period, and I’ve already had you in my bed. You know what they say about that, butterfly? If I lick it, it’s mine, but if I bite you…” Then, his fucking teeth bite into the juncture of my shoulder and neck. Not enough to draw blood, but enough to leave a mark, and my body almost crumbles to the floor. “You’re mine. Keep on running, but you won’t get far.”

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