The Lonely (The Lonely #1)

The Lonely (The Lonely #1) Page 37

I hear the light pitter patter of a Michelle's shoes behind me, "Hey. Oh my god, he is so hot. What do we do now?" Lance makes a face at me.

I smile at him but answer her as I nod at him, "Get him to tape up your hands. Then the little boys beat us up."

She grimaces, "This isn't as fun as I thought it was going to be."

I laugh, it's still bitter. "Just wait till one of the assholes hits you in the face."

"Who was that Hottie-McNaughty in the white t-shirt with the tats? That is a smexy boy. Smexy smexy boy." She follows him around with her gaze.

I swallow my fears, "Stop making up words. That's Eli."

She looks at me and then back at him. "Dayum. I didn’t make up Smexy or Dayum. Google it. It's slang for I almost peed my pants when I saw him. I mean he's still evil and damaged and shit but, wow. Maybe the damaged is part of appeal. Yikes." She turns her head and follows him around the gym.

I shake my head, "The damaged is the appeal. I have to work a million times harder to get an ounce of anything out of him, than any other normal guy. But somehow it makes it worth so much more when I do get something."

Finally she points and nods, "That explains so many things. Ouch. For reals? What the hell? Is that legal? He is too hot and too bad boy and he boxes. Sweet baby Jesus."

"You're rambling," I laugh and shake my head.

She looks savagely in his direction. "I don’t know how to box, but I would like to kick the crap out of him." I would believe her but she licks her lips and won't stop staring at him.

"Yeah well, prepare for the little boys before you go beating up the big boys." I shove her lightly, mostly to get her to stop looking at him. It's making me look at him.

Of course, it turns out she is way better at boxing than I am. She manages some good shots and even wins her fight. She is jumping and loving it. I think she uses her hatred of Eli as a fuel. She fights like a psycho.

I still suck. But between my date with doom, A.K.A. Angelo, and my hate, I manage to do a bit better.

Chapter Twenty-Three

"Dude you're going back again? It's like seven a.m." she whines.

I nod, "Yeah. I need to practice, like everyday. And I need to blow off my crazies before we see them."

She sits cross legged in her pajamas and watches me, "Why did you agree to fight Angelo? He's going to wipe the floor with you." She blushes, "So far he's been wiping the floor with me."

I roll my eyes, "Gross." It's not gross. I want details, but I'd never let her know that.

There is a knock at our door. I frown and turn around as she gets up and gets it. My face lightens.

"Happy Birthday." It's Sebastian and a bouquet of daises.

"How did you even get daisies?" I frown.

Shell smiles sweetly, "Oh my god, that’s your favorite flower."

I nod, "How did you know?"

He shrugs, "Gotta keep my secrets. Lord knows you have yours."

I laugh and take the flowers and kiss his cheek, "Thank you."

"I wanted to make sure I got here before you left. Will you have dinner with me tonight?"

I grab my bag, "Walk me out." I turn back to Shell and nod, "See you after."

She has the doe-eyed expression she gets when we talk about Sebastian. Which we do a lot. She has always been voting for him to win. Always.

He takes the bag from me, "Where are you going? I had imagined I would be waking you and then taking you for breakfast."

My cheeks flush, "Boxing."

"Wow. That is not the answer I expected. Can I drive you there?" My insides flip out.

"Yes please. Save me from the bus. I have attacks on the bus still."

He grimaces, "Oh god. I have attacks on the bus and I don’t have OCD."

I laugh. He gets the door, "So, boxing?" We walk out into the cold air. I snug my jacket around me and nod, "Yeah. New thing. Trying to feel stronger. You know?"

"I do. I boxed a lot when I was a kid. Our town didn’t have a real gym. Just a boxing gym. So you could take boxing or be lazy. I started getting fat, like all kids who are geeky and smart and sitting in front of the computer all day. One day my dad put me in. Said I was getting too chunky. I was addicted to it right off the bat. I played World of Warcraft and Diablo and Play Station, so I liked the combat aspect."

I look at his thick shoulders and get it. They're huge from the boxing. "I've noticed I'm liking it too. I feel less angry and out of control. I don’t ever win any fights, in fact I suck. But it's like, I'm there and present for the whole thing. I'm not daydreaming and imagining and wishing. I'm just fighting for something. Sanity maybe. It's like a rush to be rid of everything and just focus on one thing. I'm not anyone, just a girl in the ring."

"Wow, that’s the most you've ever shared with me."

I nudge him, "Shut up."

He opens the door to the fancy car. I love the clean smell. I squeak into the leather seat and sigh.

"You love this car don’t you?"

I nod, "I do. It's so nice and clean and quiet."

"Do you want it?"

I turn my head sharply, "What? No!" Disgust has crossed my face, I can't fight it. "Why does everyone think that just cause I grew up an orphan, they have to give everything to me? Like…am I so pathetic?"

His face turns red, "I'm sorry. I never meant to offend you. At all."

I close my eyes and mutter, "Sorry."

I've been having outbursts like that one a lot. I hate it but it seems natural. It's almost like it's the girl I might have been, had I not been taken, is slowly finding her way inside of me and taking control.

His hands rest on mine, "I don’t place the same value on money." He says softly. I open my eyes and nod, "I know. I'm sorry. I just think you should have a car, freedom. Not a driver. It's weird."

"I know it's weird."

"Has he offered to buy you a car or does he only want you under his thumb with his driver?"

I give him a harsh stare, "No. He doesn’t want me learning in the city."

He looks hurt, "Why does he get to give you money and not me? I love you. I want to be with you, completely. I want you. Baggage and all. But I don’t want some other guy's girl."

I frown and swallow hard. I don’t know what to say. I grab my bag and open the car door, "I'm sorry." I climb out, but he's out of the car in shot. He walks around and pins me to the car. His lips crash on mine. His tongue is searching, savagely. His hands rake my back and butt. I moan into his mouth.

He opens the car door wide again and shoves me in. I'm panting as he closes the door and walks around. He starts the car and puts it into drive.

"I'm tired of your running away. We are finishing this goddamned conversation before I explode and kill someone." He's angry. Vicious. I've never been more attracted to him.

He pulls into underground parking. We have sat in the awkward silence for the entire drive.

He parks and gets out. He flings open my door and drags me out of the car. He's not speaking. I don’t know what to think but I like the determination in his eyes.

He presses the elevator button with savagery, like I do, like he too is scared of whatever is behind us. The second we're inside and the door is closed, I jump him. I wrap my arms around him and kiss him like I'm trying to kill him. When we get to his floor, he carries me to the door to the penthouse. He fumbles with the key. I laugh into his mouth as he curses.

He flings open the door, slamming it into the wall. He grabs the door and slams it shut. He drops me to my feet and looks at me.

I'm breathing heavily. He pulls his sweater off. His muscles are pronounced and trembling. I reach out and run my fingers down the front of him. There is a small amount of hair on his chest.

The silence isn’t awkward anymore. It's full of sexual tension. He grabs my hand and places it over his beating heart and holds it there. It's like he's giving it to me maybe. I pull off my shirt and do the same with his hand over my sports bra. I want it to be him in my heart. My gesture might not mean the same to him but it means a lot to me.

He pulls me in, pressing our chests together. He bends and kisses my neck. His body is exploding with heat. He pulls me to the bedroom I was always running from. He shoves me back on the bed and reaches down for my yoga pants, pulling them off.

I grimace at my granny panties. They're comfier for boxing. He smiles when he sees them. He undoes his pants and pulls them off as I pull my sports bra over my head, with the usual amount of difficulty. It isn’t sexy. It's horrible and almost dislocates my shoulder every time.

He bends and licks up my calf. I shudder and lie back. He's rubbing up my legs softly, kneading and massaging and licking and kissing. I start to get lost in it. Lightly, his fingers brush my soft cotton underwear.

I gasp.

The anticipation and delicate touches are worse than anything I've ever experienced. He drags his fingers up and down my underwear. I'm slowly spreading my legs, begging him to just touch me, just let me out of my misery.

His finger loops into the middle of the underwear and brushes up and down my lips. He doesn't talk but I hear a packet. A condom. I'm grateful he's in control enough to make a smart choice.

He kisses the sides of my thigh, softly. I'm clutching the blankets. He drags my underwear down with his looped finger. I help him and kick them off. He slides up my thighs again. He's trying to kill me I think.

Before I know what to expect, warmth drags up and down my slit. I cry out, before I can stop myself. The warmth of his mouth crashes onto me. He sucks my clit, making me jerk and grab at the bed.

He licks and sucks slowly. I feel one of his huge fingers touch me. He pushes it in slowly, just dipping it in a couple times. It's enough. It's all I need. He sucks my clit and I orgasm. He feels me tighten and pumps his fingers in and out of me.