Untouchable: (Unstoppable - Book 1) (The Unstoppable Series)

by Danielle Hill

  Untouchable

  Danielle Hill

  Copyright © 2020 Danielle Hill

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, copied, resold or distributed in any form, or by any electronic or mechanical means, without permission in writing from the author, except for brief quotations within a review.

  This book is a work of fiction.

  Names, characters, businesses, organisations, places, events and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  For Mark, Mia & Max.

  You three make me proud every single day.

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Twenty-One

  Twenty-Two

  Twenty-Three

  Twenty-Four

  Twenty-Five

  Twenty-Six

  Twenty-Seven

  Twenty-Eight

  Twenty-Nine

  Thirty

  Thirty-One

  Thirty-Two

  Thirty-Three

  Thirty-Four

  Thirty-Five

  Thirty-Six

  Thirty-Seven

  Thirty-Eight

  Thirty-Nine

  Forty

  Forty-One

  Forty-Two

  Forty-Three

  Epilogue

  About The Author

  Also By DANIELLE HILL

  Acknowledgements

  One

  Riley

  Thirteen years old

  “Hey kid, you hear me? Hey, hey.”

  Two light taps to the side of my face punctuated the last two words, and I swivelled to face the owner of the voice, blinking the daze from my eyes as I cleared my throat.

  His hairy midriff folded over the top of his pants, the bulbous flesh jiggling as he jammed a meaty hand into the back pocket of his faded jeans. When it emerged with a few crumpled bills, he shoved them at me, smirking around the cig hanging from his lips. What the heck did she see in them?

  “Go on then, piss off.” His brows raised expectantly, and I glanced down at the princely sum of... eleven dollars residing in my palm. Ah, that’s right, I was being paid to make myself scarce. Again.

  Wow. How much time did he think this would buy him? Sucked to be Mom if this was enough. Even if I'd considered injecting my thoughts into the not-so riveting conversation Mom's latest fling and I were having, the flimsy door to our single-wide trailer was already hitting him on the proverbial ass as he slammed it closed behind him. Shrugging, I walked to where my bike leaned against the lidless trash can that stank like all hell and hopped on. I was quick for a girl, as Leon would begrudgingly admit, but apparently not as quick as some fat dude who wanted to get laid. The trailer was rocking before I got both feet on the pedals, Mom’s girlish squeals ringing out through the shaded windows.

  I gagged as I pushed myself into motion.

  You'd think I'd be used to it. He was boyfriend number who-the-hell-was-counting or could-even-keep-up-if-they-were. Come to realize, though, sharing a one bed trailer with a mother who viewed casual sex as a fun pastime wasn't something you ever really got used to.

  To her credit, she always made sure I wasn’t in there while she was doing… whatever she did, hence the paid absence. My mom was painfully honest with me in every regard, some people—every person on the face of the Earth—might say too honest. She’d been like that since I hit eleven and she sat me down for the talk. But seriously, I did not need to know when my mother was having sex. Ever. Not even if it was her choice, and she was, and I quote, super comfortable with her sexuality.

  She’d have to be, since she worked in a strip club; kinda came with the job description.

  Physically, it was hard to separate us. I got her eye and hair color, body frame and size. I did not inherit her propensity to dance semi-naked around a pole or engage in casual sex like she was taking part in a Spring Break sex contest.

  “So… just do it, Ri.”

  “Nuh-uh.”

  “Why, just because it looks weird?”

  I winced. He’d taken offense to that, even looked a little hurt. Note to self: do not insult a boy’s… thing. Looking into Leon's pretty face, I wondered why he wanted me to touch it, so I asked him.

  “You shitting me?”

  Shrugging, I glanced away. His fingers caught my cheek and tugged my face back. Big wide eyes stared intently into mine. I held his gaze, unblinking.

  A crease emerged on his brow and his eyes narrowed as he tilted his head in question. “You're fourteen tomorrow, right?”

  I nodded, my gaze steady, face impassive.

  “This is what girls do when they're fourteen. Especially the pretty ones. And you're the prettiest I know.”

  I sucked in a breath. My eyes dropped to the thing in question between us as my teeth caught my bottom lip, gnawing with uncertainty. I wasn't stupid. I knew more about sex than most kids my age, more than I ever wanted to, courtesy of the oversharing and brutal honesty supplied by my mother. What I didn't get was how Leon had gone from appearing to hate me and everything I stood for, constantly tripping me or sticking twigs in my bike spokes, to now wanting my hand on his fairly inconsequential and slightly floppy penis. Mom said you could lead a man anywhere by his penis. I just thought it was the men she knew. The kind who frequented strip clubs.

  “And that's why? You think I'm pretty?” I asked, peering up at him through my lashes. “That's all it takes?”

  He laughed, a deep, throaty laugh. It still surprised me. Although we were both in the same grade, I’d skipped kindergarten and went straight to first grade, which made Leon almost an entire year older than me, placing him at that awkward stage on the cusp between manhood and boyhood. His voice was toying with the idea of fully breaking, so sometimes he sounded like a full-grown man, yet his pretty face, with those sky-blue eyes and smooth jaw, was still so boyish. It often caught me off guard.

  The advice he gave me on the day I touched a penis for the first time should go down in history as the worst piece of advice ever given to anyone. Ever.

  He smirked, reaching to take my hand. I watched, unresisting, as he brought my palm to his body and pressed it into the soft flesh. Opening my fingers, I cautiously trailed them down the length of him, cutting my eyes to his face when he groaned out loud. I watched his head fall back and his eyes roll into his head before squeezing shut. His mouth opened on an extended moan.

  “You use that pretty face and body on them, I'm betting you'll get any man to give you any damn thing you want for the rest of your life, Ri. Just like that, just keep rubbing like that...”

  I did as he asked, fisted hand moving up and down methodically, but I couldn’t stop my mind from sliding off somewhere else.

  Two

  Riley

  Three years later

  “He thinks it's time we moved on from groping. He's running out of patience,” I muttered, my voice low, as I swiped an apple from the basket.

  “Wow. You're like, still sixteen ye
ars old for a couple more weeks. Pretty sure it should be acceptable to hang onto your virtue a bit longer.”

  I nodded, lifting my almost empty tray with one hand and pushing the phone that seemed to relentlessly demand my v-card into my pocket with the other. “You'd be surprised.”

  Liss, also known as Alissa Bedford and my best friend since the day after I moved to the town of Claremont, sat down at our usual table. Taking the seat beside her, I dropped my tray onto the already soiled surface, plucked a crumpled, dirty napkin from the table with my fingertips, and flicked it to the other side.

  “Gross.” Liss' nose wrinkled in distaste. “So…” She turned to me, head dipping for me to continue the conversation.

  “Not much else to say.” I shrugged, biting into the crisp apple.

  Her head cocked and her face turned serious. “Do you want to?”

  Swallowing, I twisted to look at her. “Does it matter?”

  “Yeah, it matters. Or it should,” she said on a sigh, as she placed her soda back on the tray.

  Swinging my gaze around the room, I pressed my lips together. “I'm not sure. I mean, I was the idiot who got myself into this mess. He's older, and he wants to.”

  Rolling her pale blue eyes, she lowered her voice. “It's not like he's saving himself for you, now is it?”

  I couldn't complain, even if I wanted to, which I didn't. Leon and I weren't exactly exclusive. One day I'd touched his dick, and I'd been doing it semi-regularly ever since. We made out sometimes. He put his hands under my shirt. I liked it well enough, but I didn’t want any more than that, and I wasn't ready to go further with him. I was almost seventeen with a thirty-two-year-old mother. Do the math. It wasn't an example I intended to follow. He promised he'd be careful, but nothing was one hundred percent. What would either of us do with a baby, not that I figured he'd have to worry about it. My dad, whoever that guy was, hadn't. And what if I started using sex the way my mom did? What if it became something I did to feel something?

  My eyes shifted to the doors in time to catch him entering the cafeteria like it was a royal court. My insides liquefied, breath catching in my lungs. It didn’t escape me that my body never reacted this way to Leon.

  I tracked his movements involuntarily, drinking him in with my eyes as he sauntered through the room. Seventeen, crazy big for a senior in high school, and so insanely gorgeous it hurt to look at him. Black hair, dark-brown eyes and olive skin tone, combined with his cut jawline, already impressive height and rapidly developing muscles. He was the guy every girl wanted, and every other guy wanted to be. Royal Court was right.

  Maddox Renner was King in this kingdom.

  And I was, what? Not Queen, not princess, not even a fully acknowledged member of his court. We just lived in the same trailer park and I had somehow become the unlucky recipient of his asshole tendencies.

  There was no official Queen, not that he'd claim anyway, but tell that to Raya Mitchell. Not that she needed an excuse to rip the hair extensions from your head. Ahh. Speak of the devil, and Satan's sister shall appear. But then, she never was far behind her king.

  “Skank alert,” Liss said.

  Nodding, I inhaled harshly, averting my eyes slightly too late to avoid seeing Raya plant her bodacious butt down on his left thigh, and definitely not before I saw him squeeze it with his big palm. Throwing up a little in my mouth, I raised my gaze to find his eyes fixed on me—knowing they would be—and a half smirk twisting those lips in challenge: Go on, act like I don’t affect you.

  My stomach flipped as my fingers curled into my palms. You are above this, Riley. Do not react.

  I might have been able to convince myself if I didn’t hear mocking laughter in my head. Seems I was playing fast and loose with the truth this lunchtime. Yeah well, I could lie to myself with the best of them, I’d been doing it long enough.

  Schooling my features, I swung back to Liss, eyes hard. “I'm done,” I bit out, rising with my tray and half eaten apple.

  Only, I wasn't. And it was a huge problem. I allowed myself to get sucked in more and more every single time I saw him with Raya—or any of the other girls he hooked up with. I knew I shouldn't let him, but he taunted me. And for some insane reason, I played along. I hated him for it. I hated myself more.

  Let him screw every single girl in school.

  I would die before telling him I wished they were me.

  Three

  Riley

  “Where you running off to, Riley?”

  The smug in his voice was damn near suffocating, unquestionably nauseating. Pushing off the soles of my sneakers, I injected a little more pace into my stride. He easily caught up, taking a loose hold of my arm.

  Knowing I couldn't very well drag him along with me, I huffed to a stop, kept my eyes down, and pretended to ignore his presence, while simultaneously taking in everything about him.

  I was talented like that.

  The way his jeans molded to his ass, the warm breath ghosting from his lips, the feel of his hand clamped around my bicep. Then there was the heady charge of electricity that always surged between us, making me sway. I liked to think we both felt it. But then, I also liked to think my mom stayed home baking cookies while I was at school instead of eating dick, so...

  “What is it, Ri?”

  I shook my head, refusing to look up. “Absolutely nothing.”

  “Nothing, huh?” He chuckled. Because he was an ass like that.

  “That's what I said, isn't it?” My blood boiled over because he knew what; we’d been playing this game long enough. I would never say it. We fully ignored it. There was an unspoken rule. We riled each other like crazy, but we never ever acknowledged the fact that there might be an underlying reason behind it. A reason like we were so hot for each other, we might spontaneously combust if we got too close.

  “Look at me.” His voice when he commanded me like that—deep, low, full of authority. Why did it affect me so much? Why did I respond to him in a way I couldn’t to anyone else? There was something wrong with me. I blamed my mom, Betty Cocker.

  “Why?” I spat. “Do you have more Slutty Shelleys attached to your body that you'd like for me to see? Do they come equipped with their own Velcro strips, or do you provide them?”

  Goddammit, Riley!

  I shouldn’t have done that. Shit! Letting him suspect his antics bothered me was one thing. Confirming it was like loading the gun before handing it to your assassin. I might as well beg him to put the bullet through my skull and get it over with. Fuck.

  His fingers tipped my chin, forcing my head up until I caught a glimpse of my reflection in his amused eyes. My eyes were flashing, jaw set tight; my irritation was clear for anyone in a ten foot radius to see. Damn, I was pissed, bitter even. Neither of which I should be. I purposefully blanked my features as his narrowed gaze continued to roam over my face, determined to deny him any more of a reaction. But I’d never held up well under scrutiny.

  “What?” I demanded on an exasperated breath, thoroughly agitated. Three long seconds my resolve lasted, my neutral facade dropping faster than Raya Mitchell’s panties on any given day of any given week—since forever.

  He smiled, stepping closer and stroking the backs of his knuckles over my skin. “All you have to do is ask.”

  Slapping his hand away, I took a step back and clenched my fists. “You know where you can shove it.”

  His lips quirked. “You know where you want me to shove it.”

  I scoffed, trying for disgusted and failing. But I was no quitter. “Hard pass.”

  His finger trailed over my cheek, dipping to my throat and clavicle, down to the swell of my breast, stopping just short of touching a straining nipple. My breaths heaved; my heart raced. His eyes followed the movement. My traitorous body ached for him to keep going.

  “I'll let you,” he said, voice husky. “For now.”

  Then he turned to leave. Leaving me at a massive disadvantage; a quivering mess, like always. My heart stuttered
, torn between wanting to let him go or drag him back. I both hated and loved our interactions. And so, I played the game.

  “We're official. I have an official boyfriend now,” I shouted to his retreating back. Lied might be more apt. But it could be true. Probably. Maybe.

  His expansive shoulders tensed for a fraction of a second, his stride shifting almost imperceptibly. If I hadn't been banking on a reaction like the deviant I was, I'd have missed it. He kept walking, and my panic rose.

  Jesus, what is wrong with me?

  “I'm going to have sex with him. Tonight.”

  Shut up, Riley!

  His sneakers squeaked on the surface of the linoleum as he pivoted back to me, his face a careful mask but for the muscle pulsing in his cheek as he strode in my direction. My heart bounced against my ribs so hard, I thought I'd go into cardiac arrest. I retreated, my feet moving instinctively until I felt the lockers at my back. He kept coming.

  The muscles in his arms rippled as he caged me in, crowding me, hard face looming inches from mine.

  “Leon, huh? You're gonna give it up to Leon after all this time?” he asked, his breath fanning my face. The soft dubiousness of his tone contrasted with the harsh set of his jaw and the clenched fists planted either side of my head. I affected him, too. A fact that gave me way too much pleasure.

  I swallowed roughly, trying desperately to hold his intense gaze without shrinking. “What does it matter to you, anyway?” I asked, fighting to get the upper hand. “How many times have you screwed Raya?”

  His face remained stoic. “Too many to count.”

  Damn, that hurt. I had to forcibly stop myself from flinching. It shouldn't have had any effect, especially since my sort-of boyfriend, who, incidentally, was not the guy sending my pulse into overdrive right now, slept with other girls on the regular, and that knowledge barely registered a response on my emotional radar.