What He Shields (What He Wants Book Seventeen) (20 page)

“God, Princess,” he said, as he leaned
back and took off his shirt.
 
“You
are driving me fucking crazy.”
 
His
body was just as I’d imagined – ripped and toned, every muscle rippling
and visible.
 
I ran my hands up and
over his stomach, counting the ridges of his six-pack.

He grabbed my hand in his and slid it
down over his stomach to the bulge that was now visible in his pants.

He guided my hand onto his dick, which
was rock hard.
 
I stroked it up and
down through his pants as he straddled me.
 
It felt good in my hand, felt good to touch him, to feel him, to see the
lust in his eyes as I stroked him.

His hand slid back up my thigh, pushing
my skirt up.

This time, he didn’t stop.
 
Instead, his finger found the bottom of
my panties, and he slid them over to the side until I was exposed to him.
 
His finger slid over the outside of my
pussy, and I moaned and tried to push myself against his hand.

But he slid his finger up and down
slowly, moving over my slit in a hypnotic rhythm until I was so wet and so hot
I felt like I was going insane.

“I want to fuck you,” he said, as he
pushed the folds of my pussy open and began to slide a finger inside.

 
I moaned as I stretched out around
him.
 
I’d never felt such pleasure,
never felt such lust for another person.
 

He began to unbuckle his pants, and I
grabbed his hands.

“Wait,” I said.
 
“Um, I don’t… I’ve never…”

He froze, his hands on his zipper.
 
“You’ve never what?”

“I’ve never… I’m a virgin.”

A look of panic crossed his face.
 
“You’re joking.”

I shook my head.
 
“No.”
 
His eyes darkened, so I quickly
added,
 
“But I want to.
 
With you.”

Colt sighed and then moved off of me, so
that he was standing next to the chair.
 
He picked his shirt up from where he’d thrown it on the floor and began
putting it
back
on.

The mood in the room, which had been
charged with electricity, sexy and full of heat, had turned cold and tense.

I sat up in the chair and tied the front
of my uniform back together, then pushed my skirt down.
 

“What’s wrong?” I asked.
 
“Was it something I did?”
 
I hated the way my voice sounded, hated
that I was asking him if I’d done anything wrong.
 
But I needed to know.
 
Now that I’d let myself want him, even
if it was just for a moment, I wanted to know why he was rejecting me.

“No,” Colt said, his tone clipped and
hard.
 
“This was a mistake.”
 
He finished putting his shirt on and
then walked out of the room, leaving me there, by myself, embarrassed and
wondering what happened.

I sat there for a moment, watching the
door, thinking surely he would come back, that he’d ask if I was okay, that
he’d apologize for just running out on me.
 
But after a moment, it became clear he wasn’t going to.

Tears stung my eyes, and I blinked
rapidly, trying to keep them from spilling down my cheeks.
 
But it was no use. Disappointment and
regret washed over me in a tsunami, a wave so great it was too much to bear.

The rejection stung, but there was also
the knowledge that I’d broken my promise to Declan.
 
I’d kissed Colt, I’d let him put his
hands all over my body,
I
would have slept with him if
he’d wanted to.

Just like that, in one moment, it was
over.
 

Promise broken.

There was no going back.

Tears spilled down my cheeks, but I
wasn’t sobbing.
 
In fact, I was kind
of having
a hard
time breathing.
 
I tried to stand up, but the room spun,
so I sat back down and put my head between my legs until I stopped feeling so
dizzy.

And then I reached for my bag, and the
only thing that could make me feel better.

As soon as the razor was in my hand, I
felt calmer.
 
I held the blade
against my arm and pushed it into my skin, soft and slow at first until I felt
just the tiniest sting.
 
Then I
pushed it deeper into my flesh, the pain more intense this time.
 
I went even deeper, the blood turning
from a thin pink line into a thick red one, sliding down my arm until one of
the drops hit the floor.

I didn’t care.

I didn’t care if I got blood all over
this stupid club.
 

I moved the blade up my arm, pushing it
even deeper into my skin.
 
I began
to feel high, the kind of high you got from a certain kind of pain, the kind of
pain that made you feel like you were floating up and out of your body.

I pushed the razor deeper, dragging it up
my arm, further than I’d ever dragged it before, enjoying the look of the long,
jagged cut that resulted.

Two more drops of blood feel onto the
carpet, and then three more.
 
They
were coming fast now, drip
drip
drip
,
and something about it was slightly alarming.
 
I’d never bled that much before.
 
I looked around for something to clean
it up with, but there was nothing.

Finally, I grabbed a couple of napkins
off the bar in the corner and pushed them against my wound.

But the napkins were soaked in no time.

I pulled them off, finally coming down from
my high, ready to survey the damage.
 
And when I saw it, I gasped.

The cuts were deep, gashes really, my
flesh gaping open on the sides of each cut.
 
Blood was pouring out of the wounds, and
they were starting to hurt now, really hurt, and not in a good way.
 

I went to move toward the door, to get
out of there and call for help, but when I turned around, the floor felt like
it was moving underneath me. I was dizzy, and I reached out and grabbed at one
of the chairs, using it to steady myself.
 
But my legs were wobbly, like I was walking on two strands of spaghetti,
and next thing I knew, they were giving way.

I feel to the floor, panic rising in my
chest.

The room started to slip away.

And then everything went black.

End of Book Three
–
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here for Book Four, TAKEN BY HIM, available now

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