“Let me have your phone,” Dad practically growls. “I can get some tech people at the office to see if we can’t locate—”
“I already erased everything,” Alis lies. “But, if they do it again, I’ll let you know.”
At first I’m annoyed, but then I realize why he didn’t want to fork over his phone. There’s no telling what sort of incriminating evidence about the two of us secretly hooking up my dad might find. If he asked for my phone, there’s a picture of Alis’s pretty mouth wrapped around my dick. Handing over his phone would be a bad idea.
“We won’t let anything happen to you,” Quinn vows. “Ever.”
Dad and I both nod in agreement, but Alis forces a smile.
He doesn’t believe us.
Well, too damn bad, Wonderland, because it’s the truth.
Alister
Almost a week later…
Each day ticks by quicker than the last. It’s as though there’s a looming deadline hovering over me.
What will happen tomorrow—my birthday—is the big mystery that seems to plague my mind. Anything. Anything could happen. Everything could happen. The anxiety of not knowing causes a knot to form in the pit of my gut and refuse to fade. With each passing second, each minute, each hour, it grows bigger and heavier.
It’s toxic.
It’s all I can think about.
What happens, though, when you want to stay young?
To always be Dad’s little boy?
I don’t want to be free. I want to belong. To Dad. To be a part of a family. Not be lost again, alone and scared and smelling of pee.
Not to mention, the texts just keep coming, no matter how many times I block the numbers. Always threatening me in some vague way that makes no sense but still terrifies the shit out of me.
Tears prickle at my eyes as a wave of nausea passes over me. Shakily, I drag my bow along the strings, focusing on the music and not the inevitable. Not the future. Not the emptiness that’ll come if everything is all fucked up.
Carrie smiles in my peripheral, clearly pleased with my sudden focus back on the music. I let the notes flow through me, chasing away all scary thoughts and filling my mind and soul with him.
Canyon Voss.
God, he’s so fucking hot.
And mine.
Heat floods through me, burning a trail up my spine and through my nerve endings. Anytime I think about him, I feel as though I’ll self-combust.
And when I’m with him?
I don’t feel as though I’ll catch fire…I do.
Together we fucking burn.
We’ve gotten to know each other’s bodies quite well since this thing between us began. I know what makes him insane with need and how to make him come with just the right curve of my finger inside his tight channel. I know how to draw out his orgasm until he’s a wanting, panting mess, damn near crying for it.
My body isn’t immune to him either. He plays me like I play my violin. Fast and with practiced precision, as though he was born to have me in his grip.
It’s perfect. He’s perfect. Together, we’re so goddamn perfect.
And also wrong.
Jesus.
I slip up, earning a scowl from Mrs. Weston, but quickly recover. Carrie sniggers quietly from beside me, pleased as hell to see me make a rare mistake. I continue through the rest of the song, trying my best to ignore Canyon for now.
Impossible.
He’s in my mind and in every damn heartbeat.
Hell, he’s in my nostrils because I can smell his expensive cologne all over me. We’ve taken to riding together to school in his Challenger, and I love it. Love being immersed in close quarters with him, listening to G-Eazy, and inhaling his fantastic, manly scent that drives me insane.
The hour goes by too quickly, and soon I’m being spat out of class into the dark hallway.
At first, I think Canyon has abandoned me, but then he clears his throat, emerging from an empty classroom, a brilliant smile on his handsome face. A little too eagerly, I saunter over to him, my fingers twitching to run through his hair and draw him to me for a kiss. But, before I can reach him, he gives me a slight shake of his head. His gaze is beyond me, focused on someone else.
Carrie.
“How’ve you been?” she asks, coming to stand beside me. “We miss you, Canny.”
Canyon’s smile falls, and heartbreak flashes in his blue eyes. “You do.”
“She misses you too.” Carrie frowns. “You should try and talk to her.”
He scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest, his biceps bulging in his T-shirt. “Fuck that.”
“In case you forgot,” she hisses, shoving past Canyon, “it was Dad who did this.” Then, to me, she grumbles, “See you tomorrow night for a lesson.”
“Later,” I call out to her back before turning my attention to Canyon. “You okay?”
“Fine,” he grumbles. “Actually, no. Seriously, fuck them.”
Grabbing hold of his wrist, I walk him over to the empty classroom and pull him inside. Once we’re out of sight, I push him against the wall and press my lips to his. All tension bleeds from him as he gives in to our kiss. His large hands slide to my ass, squeezing.