Bastards and Scapegoats (Twisted Legacy Duet #1) - CoraLee June Page 0,33

asleep.

Hamilton disappeared the moment we called Jack to let him know what was going on. Part of me was relieved, but the other part of me felt safer having him around. I wasn’t thinking clearly when I ran away from the café. I just wanted to put space between me and the man following me. I was terrified that my strange attraction to Hamilton was going to ruin my mother’s new marriage. Not to mention create more speculation. But now, even though there was a cruiser parked outside my apartment building, and my mother was sleeping beside me, I felt terrified. Saint didn’t look menacing. He was twisted and creepy and very invasive. It was more the breach of my privacy that freaked me out than his presence. Minus the gun, I could probably beat his scrawny ass if I wanted to. It was his unpredictability and the power he held over me that made him more threatening.

My phone vibrated on the nightstand, alerting me to a text.

Hamilton: Are you okay?

Me: Can’t sleep.

The chat bubbles flashed on my screen and disappeared. When his message finally came through, I was surprised by his question.

Hamilton: Why did you run from the café?

I chewed on my lip, trying to find a way to respond that sounded sane.

Me: I guess I was in fight or flight. I got out of there as quickly as I could and called my mom.

Hamilton: It was very reckless. I was really fucking worried about you. If you were here, I’d bend you over my knee and spank that perfect ass of yours until it was red.

I swallowed and stared at his message, reading it over and over and over again. Slipping out of bed, I made my way to the living room, leaving my snoozing mother to sleep in peace. By the time I had sat down on the leather couch, Hamilton had sent two more messages.

Hamilton: Did I lose you?

Hamilton: Come back, Petal. Don’t be afraid.

Me: I’m not afraid of you.

Hamilton: What are you afraid of?

I ran my tongue over my bottom lip while grabbing my throw blanket and tossing it over my bare legs.

Me: Saint. Ruining my mother’s new marriage. Not being good enough.

I didn’t actually send the last two bits. That was a little too honest, and I wasn’t sure Hamilton had earned the truest parts of me yet. We barely knew one another. There was an attraction, yes, but I couldn’t honestly say there was any more to it.

Hamilton: Want me to help you think of something else?

Me: What did you have in mind?

Those taunting chat bubble dots blinked a few times, and I waited with my breath caught in my throat for Hamilton to reply. Minutes passed, and I had all but given up on him when my phone rang.

“Hello?” I answered, my voice worn with exhaustion.

“What are you wearing?” Hamilton asked in a deep voice. The cliché phrase would have sounded dull coming from anyone else, but not him.

“My comfort shirt,” I admitted.

Hamilton chuckled. “Is it a sexy comfort shirt?”

“It’s an oversized white T-shirt I’ve had since I was thirteen. It used to be my mother’s.”

“Ah, I can see it now. Hits just at mid-thigh. Your nipples poke through the thin material.” My breath hitched at his raspy words. “Are you alone?”

I let out a shaky exhale while looking around the living room. “Not really. Mom stayed over.

Hamilton paused for a moment, then spoke. “You don’t have to say anything. You don’t have to do anything. Just listen to me, okay?”

“Okay,” I murmured.

“I’m fucking pissed our night was ruined because I wanted to take you home and taste you, Vera.” His words rattled me.

“We can’t—”

“Right now, we can do anything we want. It’s just talking.” I heard the sound of him shifting around. “I can see it now. I’d lay you down on my bed and slip off that sexy black skirt you had on. Your fucking creamy thighs would be trembling, and your pussy would be slick.”

My breathing turned ragged, and I touched my neck with my free hand. “You’d probably say some bullshit about how this is a terrible idea. Because you’re a good person that doesn’t want to hurt the people she loves and because you were taught that your body is a delicate little rose better suited for vases on holidays. But…”

My chest constricted. “But?” I asked.

Hamilton laughed. “But I’m a selfish bastard that won’t let you talk me out of the best damn feast of my life.