When Rivals Lose (Bayshore Rivals 2)

His statement leaves me feeling sick, my stomach churning, bile rising up my throat.

He talks as if that’s something I like or something I did before.

No way would I have had a threesome, right?

“Let me go,” I growl into his face, wrenching my arm from his grasp. I take a few unsteady steps backward. “Don’t fucking touch me again, asshole.”

He holds his hands in the air as if he’s surrendering, but something tells me that if we weren’t at a party with a bunch of people watching us, this situation would have ended a lot differently. Turning, I walk away from him, and into the crowd, suddenly feeling safer there. I take another gulp of my drink, hoping the cold liquid will cool my heated blood. That guy’s an asshole, a douchebag.

For a moment, I close my eyes and forget about the world around me. I almost laugh out loud. I’m trying to forget when all I’ve been doing for the last few weeks is trying to remember. Sucking a deep breath of air into my lungs, my eyes flutter open again. I feel different. There is a weird feeling in my stomach that seems to be spreading throughout my limbs at a rapid pace. Taking a few steps, I notice how my legs are wobbly and unsteady, like a newborn fawn.

Did I drink that much alcohol?

People run into me, as I make my way back inside or am I running into them? My perception is off. I can feel my mind becoming more clouded by the second. With each step I take forward, I become more confused, more unsure, less coherent.

What the hell?

I look up to see if I’m still going in the right direction, but I can’t make out the door anymore, all I see are people dancing, talking, and drinking. The world is carrying on around me while I’m slowly slipping away, and there is nothing I can do about it.

“Changed your mind, sexy?” The creep’s voice from earlier filters into my ears while clammy fingers circle my wrist, pulling me away from the dancefloor. I want to scream, but nothing comes out. I want to fight him, but my limbs won’t move. Panic floods my veins, and all I can think of is how stupid I was to come here.

5

Somewhere in my panic-stricken state, and confused mind, meaty fingers are replaced with soft hands. The smell of sweat and alcohol is replaced with the clean scent of citrus and rain. The terror I feel inside, replaced with an eternal calmness.

Without knowing how or even why, I know that I am safe.

“Don’t ever touch her again…” A familiar voice growls the sound vibrating through me as my ear presses against a warm, firm chest.

“We were just having some fun, Oliver. Don’t get so butthurt.”

“You are lucky there are people here, if it was just you and me, your jaw would be broken right now,” Oliver threatens the creep. “Maybe some fingers too…”

He doesn’t say anything else, just wraps his arm around me and starts leading me somewhere. My legs barely work, and I know he is half carrying me. At one point he just picks me up as my movements become more sluggish.

The music and the noise of the party fade away until it is almost completely silent around us. The only thing remaining is the steady rhythm of Oliver’s beating heart.

I’m not sure how I got there, but the next time I open my eyes, I’m in the backseat of a car. My body feels heavy and useless, my limbs weak like they have boulders tied to the ends of them. When I try and sit up to look around, I realize I’m not alone. Oliver is with me, and I’m lying across his lap, his arm cradling my head.

“Hey there,” he whispers, his fingers brushing over my face, making my skin tingle and something deep in my mind sparks with life.

“You want us to make you feel good?” I can hear Oliver’s voice in my ear, but I’m not sure if this is real or a memory.

He runs his hand up and down my inner thighs. My heart starts to beat rapidly desire pooling deep in my gut.

“Yes,” I say breathlessly, my tongue darting out over my bottom lip to wet it.

“I want to touch you,” Oliver purrs.

“You are touching me,” I tease, even though I know exactly what he means.

Grinning he uses his hand to nudge my legs apart.

“I want to touch you here,” he murmurs and lets his thumb ghost over my shorts covered pussy. Taking the hint, I spread my legs further for him. He takes the invitation and trails his fingers over the fabric before he dips his thumb into the waistband of my shorts and starts to pull them down…

“Are you okay, Harlow?” Oliver asks, dragging me back to reality. “You’re breathing funny… please, tell me you are okay.”