Page 51 of The Social Affair (New Hope 1)

“Grab your ankles,” he orders, pushing my head toward my calves. I glance over my shoulder surprised to see that he isn’t joking. “Now.”

I do as he says. All the blood rushes to my head. The upside is it helps with the dizziness. He grips my hips hard, his fingertips dig into my skin. He enters me from behind.

“I’m going to get a workout in you one way or another.”

He grunts several thrusts in. I squeeze my eyes shut. I’m afraid my head is going to hit the tree. I’m afraid I’m going to collapse. Last night wasn’t like this. Our first time as hurried as it was, wasn’t like this. But I shouldn’t complain. Chasing that high is what I said I wanted and it seems Grant Dunn knows how to do it.

“Don’t worry,” he mumbles. “I’ll be quick.”

It isn’t a lie. When he’s done, he turns me around to face him. I think he’s going to explain, to ask me if I liked it. I think he’s going to kiss me, take me in his arms. But he doesn’t. “You’ll be okay finding your way back then?”

I swallow hard. “Of course.”

I watch as he turns and runs in the opposite direction and then I pick his boxers up off the ground and shake the leaves and dirt from them. I slide them on and backtrack to the cabin.

Grant is gone for a long while, so long that I begin to worry he’s gotten lost or hurt.

When he finally returns, just before dusk, he’s quiet. He doesn’t say where he’s been. In fact, he really doesn’t speak at all.

“I was worried,” I say sidling up to him. I’ve showered and fixed my hair and makeup. I managed to locate my suitcase. But not my phone.

“You shouldn’t have been,” he tells me, stepping away. “I know these woods like the back of my hand.”

“Is something wrong?” I ask after he’s showered and shaven. I’ve tidied the cabin, made the bed and put on a pot of tea. “Yes,” he answers. “I made a terrible mistake.”

This is it. This is where it ends. Josie found out. That or she posted something on Instalook that made him second guess his decision. Probably a shot of her running. I should have given it more effort. This is why people end up alone. Laziness.

“Here,” he says handing me a glass of water. He takes my hand in his and turns it over. “Take this.”

I stare at the pill in the center of my palm.

“It’s the morning after pill.”

I scrunch my nose. “It’s fine,” I say. “I’m on birth control.” It’s a white lie. Still. It’s doubtful he has anything to worry about.

“I want it to be extra fine,” he replies lifting my hand, sliding it toward my face.

I mimic his shrug, pop the pill in my mouth and swallow. I don’t even need the water.

“Thank you.” I study his face, the satisfaction written all over it. It’s so nice to see him happy again I’m not expecting what he says next. “I’m very worried, Isobel. About what happened in the woods.”

“It’s fine,” I say again. I assume he’s talking about the way he fucked me. Like an animal.

“It’s not fine. You pushed me into doing something I wasn’t ready to do.” He sighs and turns away. He walks over to the kitchen window. He places his hands on the counter and leans all of his weight against them. He lets his head hang. “I can’t resist you. And that,” he says, “really scares me.”

I narrow my gaze.

He continues. “We shouldn’t have had unprotected sex. I’ve taken a risk. A huge risk.”

“I’m clean. I—”

He turns then. “I’ve seen the kind of men who hang around you.”

I do a double-take. “I—”

“The risk to me is very small,” he interrupts. “It’s there. However the risk of transmission is much higher for you.” He widens his stance and folds his arms. I’m a child, and he stands over me. There are things he’s warned me about, his expression says, but sometimes you can’t learn until you suffer the consequences. He takes a deep breath in and lets it out. “You should be more careful with your body, Isobel. Offering it up so freely—well, I have to say—that concerns me.”

My eyes grow wide. I feel sick. “I—”

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