Good Girls Never Rise: A Dark Boarding School Romance - Page 41

“You want what?” he asked as he stood over me in the dark closet.

A slight dip in my stomach filled with disappointment at the leeriness in his voice. If he wasn’t able to pull through, I’d be devastated. I needed this. “I want fifty thousand dollars and a fake ID.”

I watched as his arms came up behind his neck for a slight moment. “The money I can do, no problem. But a fake ID is going to take some time.” Then, he paused as hope consumed me. “Why do you need a fake ID, Good Girl?”

“And that’s another thing…” I prefaced my next request with as much confidence as I could muster up. Being shoved in a tiny closet with him—again—was making me feel all sorts of bold. “No questions.”

I could hear the grinding of his teeth before he reluctantly agreed. “Fine. Same goes for you, then. No questions.”

My brows furrowed. It was a fair trade-off, but I already had questions nibbling away at my tongue, which annoyed me to no end. Why did I care?

“Who said I cared enough to ask questions?” I totally did. “You can do whatever you want as long as you can get me what I need.”

He let out a light chuckle, and for some reason, I liked the sound of it. “I can get you the money and a fake ID, but you need to stay quiet about me leaving early or not showing up at all. No one can know I’m sneaking out of St. Mary’s. Not even your friends.”

“You mean Mercedes and Sloane?” I thought for a moment. Were they actually my friends? Yes. I guessed they were.

“Yes. Mercedes’ parents are on the SMC.”

I nodded, even though he couldn’t see me. After thinking for a moment, I snuck a glance at his dark figure. “Okay, so…” My voice was shaky, and I was so frustrated by it. He probably thought I was a nervous wreck twenty-four-seven. “You need me to tutor you and cover for you, and I need money and a fake ID.”

“Do we have a deal?” he asked in a voice so low I felt my stomach dip.

&n

bsp; “Yes,” I rushed out, feeling as if I’d just taken a leap off a cliff. Isaiah took a step toward me as I was finishing my thoughts. “But no one can know what I’ve asked of you. No one.” If Richard knew I was asking for money and a fake ID, he’d know I was planning on running again. I mean, he already knew I wanted to run—I’d already tried—but I also knew he thought that my last punishment broke me. It nearly did. But even with broken pieces, I’d still run. And this time, I was going to be smarter. I would succeed no matter how good I was at playing the dutiful good girl he thought he had a future with. I wasn’t his little doll to do with what he wanted, no matter how I portrayed myself to him. That was all part of the game.

Survive, Gemma. Just survive.

Isaiah’s hand gently grasped onto my wrist, pulling me out of my thoughts. I flinched the second he touched the bumpy skin before remembering that we were in the dark, and he couldn’t see the marks. “Shh.” The word floated out of his mouth and tickled my skin like a feather. He pulled me closer to him and slowly turned me around, putting my back to his front, before pointing at the light seeping underneath the door.

Panic wrecked me in waves, havoc causing several stress-inducing scenarios to play out in my head. It was like I was watching a series of movie trailers, but I was the guest star being thrown back into a pit of hell.

“Someone is out there, so be very, very quiet, Good Girl.” Isaiah’s whisper did nothing to alleviate my stress. In fact, it might have made it worse.

I nodded with the pounding of my heart drumming in my ears. Isaiah gently pulled me back farther into the closet and behind a standing shelf of what I saw to be more linens. Laundry detergent and his body wash filled my senses, calming me for a fraction, before the door swung open, and a golden stream of light filtered through the tiny area.

Isaiah’s hand instantly covered my mouth, and his other arm snaked around my waist, pinning me to his front side. His chest was sturdy along my back, his breathing calm and not at all frantic with fear like mine. I was damn-near hyperventilating, and my vision was growing fuzzy. Shit. Shit. Shit.

Isaiah shifted behind me silently, and his arm around my waist loosened. I was so full of fear and stress that we were going to be caught I almost grabbed onto his forearm, but then something switched.

My chest was still heaving, but instead of being consumed by dreadful nerves, I was focusing on something else happening. Isaiah’s hand was wrapped over my mouth with his breath tickling the side of my neck, but his other hand, the one previously wrapped around my torso, slipped up past my long t-shirt and landed on my bare stomach.

I sucked in a quick breath, wondering what he was doing, when my skin broke out in millions of tiny goosebumps. He traced small, soft circles lazily over my flat belly, and I leaned back into his embrace. Something tugged in my core, and a needy spark jolted between my legs at the constant feel of his skin along mine. Okay...whoa.

My eyes jolted open when his lips touched the side of my neck. For a few moments, I just stood there, frozen, mesmerized by his warm mouth on my body, but as soon as he let up, he whispered ever so quietly in my ear, “Calm your pulse, Good Girl. They’re just restocking the linens.”

And as soon as he said those words, the door slammed shut, and the light was out.

Another moment passed, and when the coast was clear, Isaiah took a hefty step away from me, taking a little slice of my dignity with him. What was that? How…how did he manage to keep me from spiraling? When fear came in huge waves like that, it usually took me under. That was the thing with fear, though. Right? If you let it simmer for too long, you could get lost in it. Fear wasn’t a bad thing. In fact, it made you aware and kept you sharp, but if you let too much of it in, well…that was when it took you down. Did he touch me on purpose? Did he just...distract me? And did I like it?

A harsh swallow came from beside me before he mumbled under his breath, “Things are going to get awfully interesting between us.”

My brows furrowed, but then he said, “We better get back soon before housekeeping comes back with more linens. Mrs. Dunes should be done with her watch by now, anyway.”

My voice was breathy. “Okay, yeah. Good idea.”

I shuddered at my awkwardness, but I was so flustered by what had just happened that I couldn’t delve in that too much.

Tags: S.J. Sylvis Romance
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