Chapter Forty-One
VIOLET
My heart hammers in my chest as I stretch to meet Thatcher’s lips with mine, giving him a soft kiss before taking the condom from him. He lets out a hum that’s a mixture of pain and pleasure when I wrap my legs around him, arching my body until I feel his hardness glide against my opening.
“Forever,” I breathe.
His mouth slams into mine, our tongues colliding in a commanding force. The already painful ache between my thighs clenches with need, a wave of pleasure rocking through me as I grind against him.
This is it. I’m about to have sex for the first time with the boy I love. And even though he hasn’t said it, he loves me too. It’s in his eyes, his touch, his promise of forever.
Hissing, he breaks the kiss, his eyes nearly black with lust as they meet mine. “Condom.”
He retrieves it from my fingers, ripping it open with his teeth and slipping it on before leaning down to feather kisses on my neck. My body tremors under him, every inch of me desperate to have him inside me.
“I should stop this,” he exhales, continuing his assault on my neck. “I’m not worthy of this—of you.”
Cupping his head in my hands, I force him to meet my gaze, my chest tightening at the agony behind his eyes. With a shift of my hips, I line him up with my opening and begin to guide him inside. “I love you, Thatcher Michaelson.” We both let out a whoosh of breath as he sinks deeper, my voice strained as I continue. “I want this. I want you.”
His eyelids fall as he buries himself inside me, and I let out a gasp from the discomfort of the fullness. He stiffens, his eyes popping open again. The love and care in his dark eyes eases my pain and eliminates any remaining fears.
“Are you okay? Do you want me to stop?”
I shake my head, moving my hips to test the waters. The ache has already faded. “I’m good,” I reassure him. “Please don’t stop.”
His nostrils flare at my plead, and his mouth lands on mine. The kiss is soft and slow, matching his pace as he begins to move in and out of me. My body continues to stretch, accommodating him more with each thrust. When I feel that familiar pulsing again, I start moving my hips with his.
“Christ,” he rasps, resting his damp forehead on mine. “You’re so fucking perfect.”
His words cause a wildfire of desire to spread through me, and my body quakes as pressure builds at my core. My fingertips dig into the muscles on his back, and I pull him harder against me, urging him to go deeper and faster.
A primal growl rumbles from his chest as he obliges my request, his speed picking up to a glorious pace.
“Fuck…I’m not going to last long at this rate, baby doll.”
“I don’t care. I need you.”
We move in sync, my hips meeting his with the same frazzled hunger. It doesn’t take long for my orgasm to come, every nerve in my body exploding with unbridled bliss as I cry out. Thatcher comes undone a few seconds later, his eyes closing as his movements become jerky and body tenses.
And I finally understand what he meant that first time he watched me come. It’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. Knowing I have the capability of making him feel this good is empowering.
When he’s done, he buries his head in my neck. We both lay still as we try to catch our breath. My arms wrap around him, hugging him as I kiss his shoulder. I can’t imagine ever feeling more alive than I do right now. Or happier. Or more connected to anyone.
It’s the most amazing and terrifying thing I’ve ever felt.
Chapter Forty-Two
VIOLET
My emotions are all over the place as I park my car outside of Thatcher’s house. They’ve been on a rollercoaster all week. I’ve tried to stay focused on the positive. Tried not to let the fact that he’s leaving for eight weeks bring me down. But I can’t seem to shake this dread.
Thatcher and I went from enemies to lovers in a relatively short amount of time. Our relationship is still new. We’re only getting to know each other. Now, he’s going to be gone for two months. What if things change while he’s away? What if we both change?
He keeps trying to reassure me everything will be fine, but I’ve seen the uncertainty behind his dark eyes. Since we made love last weekend, he’s been treating every day as if it were our last. Every kiss deep, every touch meaningful, every word thoughtful.
He doesn’t think he’s good enough for me, and it’s like he’s waiting for me to figure it out. Which could also explain why it feels like he’s keeping something from me. He hasn’t completely let his guard down because he’s so sure I’m going to go running at the first sign of trouble. He doesn’t trust my love for him because he doesn’t think he deserves it.
Laughter and music drift from Thatcher’s backyard as I get out of the car. Based on all the extra cars in his driveway, I’m guessing it’s a party. He did say his sister was home for the summer. She must be the one throwing it. From what he’s told me about their relationship, I wouldn’t be surprised if she was celebrating the fact he’s leaving.
Curiosity gets the best of me, and I decide to walk around the back of house. There’s a bunch of girls sunbathing and swimming in the pool. All of them gorgeous, tan, and practically naked. I never thought I’d be one of those jealous girls, but maybe it’s a good thing Thatcher won’t be around for the summer. The idea of him being around this all the time makes me sick to my stomach.
“Um, who the hell are you?”
My hand flies to my chest as I gasp and turn to face the person who caught me snooping. Even if I hadn’t seen the photos inside the house, it wouldn’t be hard to figure out it’s Thatcher’s sister. She has the same dark hair and intense chocolate eyes.
I give her a nervous smile and weak wave. “Hi, Kandice, right? I’m Violet.”
She looks me up and down, her face twisted with annoyance and disgust. “Is that supposed to mean something to me? Do you, like, clean the house or something?”
My eyebrows shoot up, and I press my lips together to keep my angry thoughts from spilling out. “No…I’m Thatcher’s girlfriend.”
“Girlfriend?” another girl sneers from behind me.
When I look over my shoulder, I’m met with the same look of superiority I received from Kandice. The girl keeps her glare glued on me as she steps up next to her friend, flipping her blonde hair as she crosses her arms.
“Yep. Girlfriend,” I clip.
The blonde girl looks at Kandice, who shrugs, as to say she had no clue about me. It might hurt my feelings if Thatcher hadn’t told me he barely speaks to his sister. It makes sense she wouldn’t know anything about his life.
The blonde smacks her lips as she turns her attention back to me. “You do realize spreading your legs for a boy doesn’t make you his girlfriend, right?”
My face heats as rage and embarrassment fill me. “I think I’ve had enough of this conversation. I’m going to find Thatcher.”
“Oh, bless your heart,” the blonde coos as I try to step around her. “He’s not here, sweetie. Don’t you think that’s something his girlfriend would know?”
My eyes flicker to Kandice, who sighs with boredom. “He left this morning.”
My stomach sinks as my eyes fall to the ground. Why would he leave without telling me? He wasn’t supposed to go until tomorrow. We were both excused from most of our finals, but he had his calculus exam today.
The blonde girl is smirking by the time I lift my eyes again. I’ve never wanting to punch someone so badly in my life. “I don’t understand. He wasn’t supposed to start his job until Monday.”
Kandice scoffs. “Job? Is that what he told you?
I glare at her, refusing to say anything else. These mean girls are trying to upset me, and I won’t let them win. For all I know, they’re screwing with me and he’s still inside. But if he is gone, I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation. He didn’t lie to me. He wouldn’t.
“Wait…” Blondie says, her honey eyes scanning m
e from head to toe again. “You’re the girl my brother told me about, the tease whose lies got him pummeled by Thatch.”
My head spins as I blink at her, trying to comprehend what she said, but I’m too fixated on the fact she called him Thatch. That’s reserved for his friends, bitch.
My mind replays her words. Brother? Who…? It hits me like a smack in the face. Blonde hair, golden eyes, sense of entitlement. She’s Joey’s sister. And Joey…shit.
An image of Thatcher’s swollen knuckles the night he showed up at my window flashes through my mind. Come to think of it, Joey hadn’t been in school the week after my in-school suspension. I was too relieved to put much thought into it at the time. Thatcher promised me he wouldn’t go after Joey. Had he beaten Joey so severely he couldn’t even come to school?
“I should go,” I say, hating the despair in my voice.
Joey’s sister giggles. “Maybe Thatcher didn’t tell you he was leaving or where he was going because he figured out you weren’t worth his time. Serves you right, if you ask me. It’s a shame, though. I know what a beast he is in bed. After all, I taught him everything he knows.”
Bile rises in my throat, tears pricking my eyes as I turn my back to them, only to find the rest of the girls from Kandice’s party all lined up, blocking the path.
“You can’t take all the credit,” the curly haired girl in the middle says. “We all had a hand in teaching him how to touch, lick, and fuck like a pro.”
“You’re welcome,” they all say in unison.
Tears roll down my face, my body trembling as I take in all their grinning faces. There’s six of them, seven counting Joey’s sister. All older than him by at least two or three years.
“Gross, not all of us,” Kandice whines, breaking me from my trance.
The monstrous girls all laugh as I shove my way through them, their laughter haunting me all the way to my car.
It would continue to torment me for the hours, weeks, and days to come.
Chapter Forty-Three
THATCHER
The silence. That’s the worst thing about this place. It seeps into my head and sets my demons free. There’s nothing to drown them out. No way to quiet my mind. With no distractions, I’m left alone with my thoughts most of the time. It’s like being trapped in a small room with someone you hate for twelve hours a day. Only, the person I hate is myself.
Sighing, I take a seat at the small wooden desk in the claustrophobic room assigned to me when I arrived. My dear ol’ dad arranged for me to have a single, no doubt wanting to make sure I was as lonely and miserable as possible during my stay here. It worked too. The only real conversations I have most days are with these stark white walls, and they’re totally one sided.
It’s been one month. Thirty days without her. Seven hundred and twenty hours of missing her. Forty-three thousand two hundred minutes thinking about how royally I fucked things up.
The blank piece of paper on the desk mocks me as I pick up my pen, my chest aching as I try to figure out where to even begin. There’s so much I want to tell her. So much I need to explain. But after the way things unfolded when I left, I’m not so sure she wants to hear any of it.
My father took my phone that morning before he dragged me out of bed and escorted me to school for my last exam. Afterwards, he drove me straight here, never giving me the chance to tell Violet—or anyone, for that matter.
It wasn’t until my arrival I was told I wouldn’t have internet or phone privileges, forcing me to rely on snail mail to communicate with my friends and Violet. My first week here, I wrote all three of them a letter, trying to explain and make amends. On the second week, I received one lone letter back from Arwen.
She made it very clear how unhappy she was with me, but felt I needed to know what happened. Cole had warned me Violet would find out the truth from someone else if I didn’t tell her, and he was right. She’d been told in the worst possible way by the worst kind of monsters. My lies hurt her, and my best friends got caught in the crossfire.
I haven’t written to any of them since, though I’ve received two more letters from Arwen telling me what a great summer she’s having with Violet. It’s her passive aggressive way of punishing me for putting her in the middle. When Cole gets mad, he’ll ignore you. But Arwen will make you beg for mercy.
This week’s letter included a picture of Violet sitting next to the pool at Arwen’s dad’s hotel. Her golden hair is shining in the sun, her gaze unfocused, as if Arwen caught her mid-thought. But my favorite thing about the photo is the little mermaid shirt she’s wearing. It’s innocence and sweetness. It’s Violet.
She’s taped up next to my bed now, only adding to my daily torment.
It’s Saturday night. No doubt Cole and Arwen are out with Violet doing God knows what. And I’m stuck here with nothing more than a picture of her.
Arwen likely sent it to me as a reminder of what I stand to lose. It’s meant to give me the courage to fight for her. My best friend knows I screwed up, but she wants me to make it right. She wants me to get the girl. And her plan worked.
When Violet gave herself to me and said she loved me, I told her I was never letting go. She promised me forever, and I fully intend to cash in on that. But first, she needs to know everything.
“Every saint has a past, and every sinner has a future.” – Oscar Wilde.
Dear Saint,
According to this Oscar guy, it’s possible for a sinner to become a saint. You were the future for this sinner—my entry into sainthood. All you wanted was for me to let you in, and instead, I let you down.
There’s only one way to make this right. One way for me to find my redemption. I need to come clean, to confess all my sins. I’m going to tell you everything. The good, bad, and ugly.
Let’s start at the beginning with the chubby little rich boy who always felt alone…
Chapter Forty-Four
VIOLET
Arwen looks over at me out the corner of her eye, trying to act as if she’s not invested in the letter I have in my hands. It’s the fifth one Thatcher sent since he’s been gone. Not at a job like he told me, but at a freaking boarding school for teens with behavioral issues. Why? Because he beat the crap out of Joey after he promised he wouldn’t.
The truth is, I don’t care about Joey or the stupid promise. The only thing I find upsetting—the only thing that matters—is the lie. He didn’t trust me with the truth—he didn’t trust in us. I opened my heart to him, and the whole time, he had his guard up.
“Are you going to read that one?” Arwen asks as we pull out of my driveway.
We’ve had the best time together this summer. Even with the whole Thatcher situation looming over my head. But it’s our last day of summer school. Only two more finals, then I’ll be done and ready to start my senior year. And instead of feeling excited, there’s this big lead ball of worry in my gut. The end of summer school means the end of summer. Which means Thatcher will be home soon, and I don’t know how to fell about that.
After those bitches at Thatcher’s blew up my world, I ran straight to Arwen. Admittedly, I was angry with her at first, but she came clean about everything, and I knew it wasn’t fair to hold her accountable for the things Thatcher had done.
When I told her how I’d found out Thatcher was lying to me and the things those girls said, I thought she might murder all of them. She said there was more to the story when it came to Thatcher sleeping with all those girls. It all made me seriously regret not asking him to tell me about his history. Being blindsided by a bunch of gorgeous, rich, mean girls who all slept with your boyfriend is horrific. Most of all, I hate that they saw me cry.
I stuff the letter into my backpack. “No. There’s no point. It’s not going to change anything.”
When he sent the first letter, I thought maybe it would say something to explain how he could lie to me the way he did. There was nothing more than lame excuses and a weak ass apology. That was the only one I read.
&
nbsp; “How can you be sure if you don’t read them?”
Ignoring her, I look out the passenger window and sigh. Arwen has done her best to stay neutral, but I know she wants me to give him another chance. She doesn’t want me to give up on him. She’s done everything in her power to keep other guys away from me all summer. The guys at school probably think I’m dating Arwen because of the way she’s acted.
And I get it. Thatcher is one of her best friends. She cares about him and wants him to be happy. She wants that for both of us. But she doesn’t understand it’s in Thatcher’s hands, not mine. We can’t be together unless he’s willing to let me in. If he can’t do that, maybe I’m not the girl he needs to be with.
She groans. “Fine, I’ll drop it. But he’s not going to be as easy to ignore once he returns.”
My heart thuds at the thought. Seeing him again is going to be hard as hell. I’ve always wanted him, even when I knew I shouldn’t. Now, I’ve had him. I’ve fallen in love with him. Walking away is going to hurt.
She parks her car outside the high school, lifting her eyebrows with impatience as I meet her gaze.
I shrug a shoulder, widening my eyes right back at her. “It’s not like I’m going to refuse to talk to him.” My voice sounds whiny, my tone bitchy, and Arwen’s mouth twists. “We can be friends. I mean, he’s going to be in your and Cole’s lives. And I don’t want things to be hard for the two of you.”
She huffs, shaking her head. Not that I blame her, there’s no conviction behind my words. I don’t believe a single word I’m saying. Except for the part about not wanting to make things hard on Arwen and Cole. They are both still upset with him about lying to me as it is. I don’t think Cole has had any contact with Thatcher all summer long. The three of them have been thick as thieves for years, they shouldn’t let whatever happens between me and Thatcher change things.
When the Saint Falls: a high school bully romance (Westbrook three Book 1) Page 19
