Page 39 of Insatiable

Me: Shut up. I’m not dating him. And they’re normal people.

Kyle: Okay. Cool. I thought your flight was hours ago? How do you have a signal?

Me: I missed it. I need to stay in a hotel until tomorrow.

Kyle: With the psychopath’s son? Damn.

Kyle: Remember… orangeemojiwith your location and I’ll be there.

I send him anokay, and he goes offline. I’ve blocked Chris thankfully. When the first string of abusive messages came in as soon as I sat in the car, I made sure he couldn’t contact me for the remainder of the trip. My body still aches from his violent “lesson” last night. I don’t think the bruises and cuts are too noticeable, but I used a thick concealer to cover them up, just in case.

Is it bad that I welcome his fists? If he didn’t hurt me that way, he might resort to sexual attacks, and I’ll die before I allow that.

It’s the middle of the afternoon, but I didn’t sleep much last night. I yawn, stretch under the covers and quickly text Kade to tell him I’m going for a nap. He reads it, and when ten minutes pass without a response, I sigh and put my phone on charge. As soon as my head hits the pillow, I’m out.

It’s been hours since I woke up and there’s still no sign of Kade. TV is boring, social media is dead, and I keep rereading the same line of a rom-com book and failing to register the words. It’s late, the light from a lamppost shines through the window, rain pelting the glass, and I’m in dire need of a cold can of juice.

I’m starving too. I think the entire hotel can hear every time my stomach growls at me to feed it. But my laziness has so far won, and I’ve settled on the bottle of water from the mini fridge.

Did I go through his things hunting for a snack and settle on stealing his crisps? Yes. Yes, I did.

Luciella called. They landed an hour ago. She said she was close to punching Base in the face and sending him home. She didn’t appreciate him suggesting a quickie to get them both in the mile-high club. She hung up on me when I started laughing.

A beep sounds from the door, and it swings open, banging off the wall. I shouldn’t flinch – I don’t mean to – but my heart races momentarily and I pull the duvet to my chest as if Chris is about to fly in and smash his fist into my face.

Kade pauses in the threshold as if he’s forgotten I’m here, his brow raised at my scared expression, before he slowly closes the door.

I let my grip on the covers go and pretend to read my book, refusing to acknowledge his presence. But the energy changes when he’s near – if I couldn’t read before, I definitely can’t now.

I keep the book open anyway and watch him over the top of it.

He tosses his car keys on the hotel dresser, shrugs out of his jacket and drops it on the little chair on the way to the bathroom.

Hello to you too, asshole.

His phone dings on the dresser once, twice, a thousand bloody times. I ignore it as the news reporter on the TV announces a horrific death in the centre of Edinburgh. I glance up at the screen as she stands with a microphone in the rain, explaining that the body of a man was found decapitated in the middle of Holyrood Park a few hours ago. A harrowing murder in broad daylight.

“Woah,” I blurt. I turn the volume up, my book forgotten as it slides off my lap, and shift to the foot of the bed, watching the footage of police officers cordoning off the area. Another view comes from a helicopter hovering over the park.

“Did you see this?” I call out to Kade, but of course, he doesn’t answer me. “This is so close to us.”

They’re still looking for the attacker – someone tall, strong and wearing a black balaclava. No evidence has yet been found except for a snippet of CCTV but they have no way of identifying the perpetrator. The officers are on foot and in vehicles, hunting for the person who did it.

I could never take another person’s life, despite what I’ve sometimes thought about doing to Chris. The idea alone makes me tremble and pull myself back into bed. I mute the reporter, trying to refocus on my book. Maria – the main character – is going on a blind date and hoping to end her three-year dry spell.

My one-night stand with Bryan-or-Byron was the last time I had sex, and quite frankly, I can’t say it was memorable. To be fair, I haven’t heard a peep from him either, so I guess we’re mutual on it being a one-time thing.

I can’t risk touching myself at home with Chris under the same roof. Maybe my need for pleasure explains why things went as far as they did at the studio. It explains where I got the balls to even make the first move, considering my nerves were all over the place just from having Kade’s hands on me.

Is it normal to hate himandwant to feel him inside me?

Is it normal to wake up sweating and seconds from orgasming from memories alone?

Probably not.

If the girls hadn’t shown up early for class last night, I strongly believe Kade and I would’ve ended up on the studio floor again. It’s still there – the tension that cripples me, the pull towards him that has me internally screaming. All the feelings I’ve locked away. Each time my eyes land on his, I want him. But I also want to slap him hard enough to hurt him.

The bathroom door opens and closes, and I glance up. “Did you eat?” I ask, my voice cracking at the end when I see he’s only in a pair of boxers.

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