Page 6 of Blurred Lines

The ache in my chest intensifies with every step until I find myself standing outside Emilia’s room, with no fucking clue as to why. I tell myself it's because I want to tell her the good news regarding Hadley. It definitely cannot have anything to do with the knowledge that a good fuck would rid me of this excess energy vibrating under my skin, like a rampant electric current. There are less complicated girls I could choose than Emilia Davis. I don’t even really like herthatway. I mean sure, we’ve spent a lot of time together these last two weeks. And she’s quirky and fun to be around, but I just don’t see her like that. Even if I did, she’s worth far more than a meaningless one night fuck.

None the wiser as to why the fuck I’m here, but unable to tear myself away as I stare confused and hesitant at her wooden door, I eventually sigh and raise my hand, delivering three solid knocks to the door.

Chapter 3

I curse and grumble, threatening bloody murder on whatever shitstain is knocking on my door in the middle of the night—on a school night no less! Some people just have no common courtesy.

Yanking on the door with a scowl in place that is at complete odds with the fluffy pink bunny rabbit pajamas I’m wearing, I open my mouth intent on telling the dipshit on the other side exactly how little I think of them, but I pause before I can so much as get a word out.

My eyes widen to saucers when I find a worse-for-wear Wilder on the other side. “What the hell happened to you?” I ask, before dropping my gaze over his outfit and raising a brow in question. “And what are you wearing?”

“We got Hadley,” he blurts out.

Uninvited, he barges past me, collapsing onto my bed as though his body can’t physically hold him up any longer, but I honestly don’t care because what he just said finally registers with me.

“You what? You got her back? How? Is she okay?” I start rapid-firing questions at him before throwing my arms out, a silent gesture telling him not to bother answering them. “We need to go see her.Ineed to go see her.” I start toward my dresser, pulling open drawers, intent on getting dressed and to her as soon as possible, all the while ignoring the shaking of Wilder’s head that started before I’d even finished talking.

“You can’t. She’s in the hospital.”

Those words stall my movements and I spin to face him. “Hospital?” The word is a high-pitched shriek that makes him wince. “Why? What happened to her? Is she going to be okay?”

“Jesus, woman. If you’d shut the fuck up for one second, I’d tell you.”

I snap my mouth shut, only because I desperately need answers, and stare imploringly at him.

He lets out a long, weary sigh as he drags his body into an upright position. “She’s fine. At least, she will be. The guys are with her now.”

I’m biting my lip so hard, holding back my next question, that I break the skin and blood rushes into my mouth. I so badly want to ask him what happened tonight, where Hadley has been and who took her. By the looks of him, with his torn clothing and split lip, he was there—wherever there is. But Hawk told me it had to come from Hadley, and ultimately, I agree.

As much as I want to see it for myself, knowing that Hadley is alive and in the guys’ capable hands will have to be good enough for now. Instead, I shift my focus to the man sitting in front of me. Wilder’s leg bounces with a nervous type of energy and his disheveled clothing gives away that something went down tonight. His face and forearms are coated in a mixture of grime, sweat and…“Is that blood?”

As if only just noticing, he glances down at his hands and arms, inspecting them before casually dismissing it, like blood stains on your skin is a common occurrence—for all I know, to Wilder, itisa regular thing.

“Oh, yeah, it is.” He says it with such a casual indifference, unaware of the panic taking over me.

“Up!” I bark, my sharp tone making his head snap up to meet my gaze.

“What? I—”

“Get the fuck up,” I repeat in the same severe tone. This time moving toward him, gesturing for him to get off the bed until he does as ordered, looking at me with such confusion it would be laughable, if it wasn’t for the fact he’s sitting on my nice clean bed sheets, covered in someone else’s blood. No fucking thanks.

I shoo him to the side and lean over, peering carefully at the bed covers before deciding I’m safer to just strip them. God knows how much blood could have soaked into his clothes that I can’t even see because they’re black.

“Ehh, what are we doing?” Wilder asks, leaning over to peer closely at the spot on the bed where he was just sitting and I was just analyzing.

“You,” I begin pointedly, moving to grab a spare shower towel, “are going to shower. Who knows what filth you’re covered in.”

His eyebrows hitch in surprise, and after a second's hesitation, he grabs the towel from my outstretched hand and heads out the bedroom door.

I have the bed stripped and remade, and I'm just plumping up the pillows, with my back to the door, by the time he returns.

“That felt so good,” he says with a sigh, and I can hear the difference in his voice. He even sounds more at ease than when he first arrived.

“Good, I’m—” My words trail off as I turn to face him, and my mouth suddenly dries up.Holy man meat on a stick.Wearing nothing but his boxers, Wilder runs the towel through his hair, drying it off in a move that makes his bicep flex and his abdomen tense, showing off the threaded chords of muscle running underneath.

My eyes slowly trail over his toned chest, feeling like I'm looking at him for the first time—and I guess, in a way, I am. Wilder's weirdness is usually what captures my attention first, and it has obviously kept me distracted from realizing the hot bod he keeps hidden underneath his school uniform every day.

I slowly blink out of my lusty haze when I notice a dark, painful-looking bruise and a red gash sliced across his side, just beneath his ribs. From this angle, I can only see the edge as it stretches across his midsection, and instinctually, I move forward, my fingers reaching out to brush over the discoloration, feeling the raised skin of the cut beneath my featherlight touch.

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