High (15 page)

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Authors: LP Lovell

BOOK: High
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I drop my eyes, focusing on one of his shirt buttons. I trail my hand over his chest, and absently trace my finger around that button. “I want to fuck someone else.” I say, trying to put as much strength into my voice as possible. I don’t. What would be the point? I’m pretty sure my vagina is ruined for anyone else. But the fact that I barely know him, and am this into him makes me nervous. It’s just not right. I know absolutely nothing about him, but then, why the fuck do I need to?

He adjusts his grip on my face, his fingers gripping my chin almost painfully, forcing me to look at him. “Really?”

He holds my gaze, staring me down. My resolve wavers under the weight of his stare and that stupid fucking lure of his batters away at my reason. “No.” I whisper.

His expression softens, and his eyes focus on my lips, before he leans in, brushing his lips over mine. “I know.” He breathes against my mouth before he kisses me, and just like that, I’m putty in his hands. The worst part is that I know I’m being easy but can’t seem to do anything about it. He nips at my bottom lip gently, and steps away, out of my reach.

“I have to go away for a couple of days, but I’ll call you tomorrow.”

Uh-huh. Just fucking? Bullshit.

“Okay.”

He starts walking backwards towards his car. “Make sure you actually take the cat to the vet.” He smirks, holding up his injured hand. “I bled for that shit.”

“Yeah, yeah.” I wave him off and get in the car.

 

 

I sit in the waiting area, staring at the depressing grey walls. This place is enough to make you want to blow your fucking brains out, but then I guess that’s the point.

My phone, wallet, keys have all been taken off me, so I have nothing to do but sit here with my own fucking thoughts, and trust me, there are plenty. This whole situation is shitty. I’m here to do a job, and that should be my focus, but Blake is consuming my every damn thought.

I like fucking her, but that should be it. I shouldn’t like the way she laughs, or the way she looks when she wakes up in the morning, or her ‘give a fuck’ attitude.

The problem is, things with her are so fucking easy. When I’m with her she’s happy to see me and she acts like my cock is god, but when I’m not with her, she doesn’t call or text. She’s the perfect woman. I thought I could fuck her out of my system but I can’t, and the way the damn press hound us, I’ve definitely had enough time locked in that flat with her to try.

She’s relentless and the rougher I am with her, the more she wants. She’s just crazy enough to keep things exciting, but not in the psycho, insane bitch way.
Shit.

“Torres!” The guard shouts and I stand, walking up to the gate. I hold my arms out and he pats me down before sending me through a body scanner.

“Clear.”

The heavy iron door opens with a loud buzz and I’m guided down the corridor into the visiting room. Rows of tables and chairs line the dismal looking room. No windows, just the harsh thrumming of the fluorescent lights overhead.

I take a seat and wait, rapping my knuckles on the scarred wood of the table. A couple of other people wait at tables, an older guy, a woman with a little girl. I remember my mom taking me to see my dad in prison. That shit scars, and I feel sorry for the kid.

The door to the room opens with that heavy buzzing sound again, and guards lead in three guys dressed in navy jump suits.

Luca smiles as he walks towards me and drops into the seat across from mine. “It’s good to see you.” He says.

My baby brother, the one who was supposed to get out of all this shit and yet somehow got dragged in deeper than I ever did. Various bruises, old and new, mark his face. That’s how it is in prison. My dad got shanked twice before someone finally got him good enough to kill him. The Cartel have a very long reach, but luckily, they’re more interested in getting Luca out than killing him. For now.

“How have you been?” It’s a stupid fucking question.

He shrugs. “The food’s shit, and I would pretty much give my left nut for some pussy.” Same old Luca, always smiling, no matter what.

“Your right arm
is
looking a bit over developed.” I grin.

Growing up, Luca was my best friend, my brother, my everything. We had each other’s backs and we did what we needed to survive. We were all we had, and I let him down. I let him get into this shit. It fucking hurts seeing him in here, and I don’t see him as often as I should because it’s just a reminder of where I failed.

He glances around quickly and lowers his voice. “So how’s it all going?”

I nod. “I’m working on it. It shouldn’t be long now.”

He nods and smiles but it doesn’t touch his eyes. I know he’s putting on a brave face for me.

I cup the back of his neck. “I’m going to get you out, Luca. I promise.”

“Hey! No touching!” A guard gets between us, shoving me back in my seat as another pulls Luca to his feet. His eyes are glassy as they lead him away, and as I walk out of that room, I have the urge to punch something.

 

 

The door clicks shut and Milly walks into the room with a piece of paper in her hand. “Your hamster is actually fucking real.”

I sit up on the sofa. “You saw him?”

She laughs and shakes her head, handing me the piece of paper. “This was on the lobby notice board.”

It’s a missing poster…for a hamster. Seriously, who even does that? “I fucking told you!”

She holds her hands up as she walks over to the kitchen. “Yeah, but you spend a lot of time high.”

I shrug because it’s true. “Well, in future you know to trust whatever I say, no matter how high I am.” 

She laughs. “Uh-huh. Okay. I have to go take this article to the editor, but I’ll see you later.”

“Yeah, I’m going to go and play with Felix. I feel like I haven’t seen him in forever.”

“He’ll like that. Have fun.”

I step out of the club, typing a text to Milly on my phone as I go. I look up and freeze when I spot the black BMW parked by the curb and the sexy as sin man leaning against it, arms folded over his chest. Rhett’s lips kick up into that effortlessly sensual smile when he sees me approach. I get that sickening butterflies in the stomach feeling that every trashy romance novel tells you about. I’ve become one of the very people that make me want to vomit in my mouth a little.

I step close to him, placing my hand inside his jacket against his warm, hard chest. “I thought you weren’t back until tomorrow?”

Those gold eyes fix with mine, and it’s like he paralyses me with a look. “Change of plans.” He wraps his hand around the back of my neck and yanks me forward in that demanding way of his, pulling me into the warmth of his body. I couldn’t argue or fight him even if I wanted to. He lowers his face to mine and gently teases my mouth. His warm breath touches my cold lips, and his free hand cups my cheek, stroking his thumb over my cheek.

“I missed you.” He purrs, and damn, I could easily lose my heart to Rhett Torres.

“Liar.” I breathe.

He laughs and presses his lips to mine again. “Okay, I missed your pussy.”

Better.
Better for my heart anyway. I smile. “Of course you did, but it’s only been two days. I think you have a problem.”

“I do.” He murmurs against my mouth. “She’s about five-six, blonde, sexy as fuck.”

It takes me a few seconds to realize there’s a photographer taking pictures of us. It’s as though we’re in a snow globe, our own little glass world. When I hear the familiar click, I glance at the guy who is furiously taking pictures.

Rhett cocks an eyebrow and spins me, slamming me against the side of the car. His hand winds into my hair and his warm lips meet my neck. I gasp as my body erupts into goose bumps, my fingers clenching into the folds of his shirt. He bites me before swiping his tongue over the same spot. My eyes flutter closed as a moan slips from my lips. Damn it, he’s like fucking crack, and by that, I mean that you would sell your very fucking soul for just one more hit, one more second of this feeling. Never have I felt so alive as when he touches me. By the time he pulls away from me, I’m dizzy. He flashes a cocky grin and takes my hand, pulling me away from the car and opening the door. I had totally forgotten about the guy with the camera until he moves back into my view, trying to capture us from a different angle.

We get in the car and he starts it. “I think he got his shot.” He says.

I smirk. “I’ll have you know I was perfectly happy covering page five with my regular minge shots before you came along.”

“I’m sure you were.” He laughs. “You’re classy like that.”

“Hey, a minge shot whilst falling out a limo
is
a classy minge shot.”

We’re about five minutes away from my apartment when he turns the wrong way. “Uh, where are we going?”

“My place.”

“The hotel?” I don’t mind staying there, but I prefer mine.

He smiles. “No. My
new
place.”

“You go away for a day and buy a house. As you do.” Because that’s normal.

His lips quirk up. “I just completed it last week, and it’s an apartment.”

“Where is it?”

“Chelsea.”

I say nothing, but shit, Chelsea?  I knew Rhett was wealthy, as in, makes enough money to live in New York and drive nice cars, but Chelsea is expensive as fuck.

He pulls up outside a terraced town house and leaves his car parked on the street. I climb out and look up at the four story building with iron balconies on each story. He takes my hand, leading me up the few steps to the door. Inside, he walks down a short corridor and up two flights of stairs.

“Fuck. Who even has stairs anymore?” I huff, trying to catch my breath.

He cocks an eyebrow at me as I lean against the wall next to the door. “Really? Two flights of stairs?”

“Fuck off. Exercise is for people who have nothing better to do with their time though I should stress that it’s definitely a good use of
your
time. You keep on with that.” I nod.

He raises his eyebrows. “Because you have so much to do with your time.”

“I resent that statement. I’m a full time carer to myself and my cat.”

He shakes his head and unlocks the door, pushing it open. I guess I’m curious. They say you can tell a lot about a person by their living space. I can’t really say whether that’s true or not. I’ve been in a lot of guys places, but I’m usually not looking around at the décor when I’m high tailing it out of there. 

He closes the door behind me and walks down the hall into a spacious kitchen diner. It’s as I would expect of him, stainless work tops and black units. It screams efficiency and power. Very Rhett.

He shows me around the two-bedroom apartment and it’s all much the same with very little colour. Unlike my apartment which is full of…well, I guess most people would call it shit. I call it memories, trinkets. His place is nice, though, expensive.

Rhett disappears into the kitchen and, for a moment, I feel awkward in his space. When we’re at my place, it’s easy, laid back. This feels like it means something. Who knows? Maybe I’m just reading way more into it than I should. Or maybe I just feel awkward because this is a first for me, spending time with someone in their home. Usually, I’d still be in the hallway right now, pinned against the wall or with his dick in my mouth.

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