No matter how hard I tried to reach the shore, the molasses-like substance moved around me, keeping me in place until I was just spinning my wheels, drowning in sorrow and worry.
If I had balls, the Jacobs would have me by them. Lance knows it. Stone and his friends know it. Now, I know it, too. Play their game or risk my life, basically. Maybe not in the physical sense but what about everything else? You have to work for a good life. It’s not just handed to you, especially for people like me. Lance knows that, and he’s using it against me. It’s a very real threat that I can’t take lightly no matter how much I want to tell him to just go fuck himself.
After getting ready the next morning, I listen at my bedroom door for a moment to see if I can hear any signs of Wyatt before going out into the main room. I’d imagine he’s still out there since Lance told him to stay and because the three boys will do anything he says. They always have.
I turn and pull the knob after silence greets me. The door opens with a slight creak. I tiptoe across the threadbare carpet, hoping I can just sneak out without Wyatt noticing. I need to meet with Dickie to see if he knows anything about Lance that I don’t. Then, I need to go to school because as of right now, I still have a school to go to.
I get partway through the living room, the door in sight, when a short snore pulls my attention away from escaping. I glance over at the couch to find Wyatt lying across the cushions. He’s only wearing his jeans, his black cowboy hat perched on his chest. In the early light of the morning, he doesn’t look like the guy who kicked my door in yesterday and used bolt cutters to snip the lock.
Yep, still not over that invasion of space. Or the mess they left in here. Assholes.
I swallow as I glance at the dips and planes of his abs. His naked torso peeks out from around the brim of his hat before dipping low, his jeans hiding everything south of his Adonis belt, that taper that makes women flutter their eyelashes. Heat consumes me as I wonder what it would be like to let this cowboy ride me until I remember he completely trashed my room yesterday. There’s a fine line between lust and hate, and I need to remember which side I fall on.
This asshole is just going to sleep on my couch looking like he doesn’t have a care in the world? No, no, no. That’s not happening.
I stride toward the coffee table where a glass of tap water still sits half-full, unbelievably still there despite Stone tripping over it yesterday. I grip it in my hand, towering over Wyatt’s still form. My body crackles with new energy. Vengeance, maybe. Just a little. Though, this will never make up for what they’re doing to me.
I throw the tap water in his face.
He splutters awake, gasping for air. Eyes wild with an emotion that’s akin to fear, he pulls himself to an almost sitting position before he narrows his gaze at me. “What the fuck, Dakota?” His eyes burn, dancing all over my body as my chest moves up and down sharply. Yes, I liked that very much. Take that, asshole.
I go to turn but Wyatt grabs my wrist. He gives it a quick tug, spinning me and pulling me forward until I have no option but to fall onto him. He stealthily moves my legs to either side of his thighs, his hands on my lower back, keeping pressure there. My fingers land on his collar bone, tickling the edges of the slight indent of skin as he gazes up at me.
He licks a drop of water from his lips. “There’s only one way I like to wake up wet.”
My nipples peak. I’ve seriously just been transported into one of my fantasies. No, Wyatt isn’t currently wearing his cowboy hat, but he has hat hair, you know? The kind that’s flat against his head from wearing one. It’s the promise of that cowboy hat that does it for me.
The water glistens on his chest, dripping from his angular jaw, down his rippled abs before wetting my shorts where we connect. If I’m not careful, I’m about to soak another article of my clothing, too. I push