Page 115 of Midnight Curfew

And I already want more. His dick was tenting the sheet when I left, and I couldn’t fucking believe it. I wanted him in my mouth again.

I should’ve let him wake up to a blow job, but it’s best to keep him wanting. He hasn’t grown up that much, and if I continue to play him just right, he’ll surrender. He’ll call off the fucking curfew, and I can probably get another favor or two out of him for my family’s sake.

Propping my elbow on the door, I rake my hand through my hair.

Why did I tell him about my grave?

And about my mother?

He knows more about me than anyone.

I mean, it worked. I bared it all, and he gave in to me.

Fucking him wasn’t in the plan, though. I just saw him with Anna-Katherine last night, and I saw myself, thirteen years old and on the stairs.

Except he went to her when she cried.

He took care of her. He made the right decisions, and it made me wanna…

I shake my head. I don’t know.

I wanted him to feel good, because I know what it’s like to be facing someone who’s hurting, and I hated that feeling, too.

It’s helpless and confusing and stifling, because you’re waiting for the next explosion, living your life around a time bomb.

Why did I give a shit if he felt good?

I pull up in front of my house, quickly taking inventory of the cars to see who’s home while I also force myself to push Callum Ames out of my head.

It doesn’t matter. He’s a good fuck, so I got something out of it, too.

Opening my car door, I slick back my hair and run to the front door.

The house is quiet, and I look up the stairs, seeing the hallway dark.

They’re all still asleep, a small blessing. I don’t want to talk right now.

Heading across the living room, I approach the kitchen, seeing damn near everyone around the kitchen table, and halt. Army’s still in his uniform as he stands at the entrance.

What the fuck? “What are you guys doing?”

Grazing their faces, I see my sister draw in a breath at the sight of me, Aracely rolling her eyes as she leans against the fridge with her hand on her hip.

Trace crashes into me, enveloping me in a bear hug.

Is he crazy?

I shove him away. “Get off.”

The last time we hugged I was eight and he was seven, and he was drowning. I had to haul his ass back to shore.

“Where the hell were you?” Iron asks.

Were they waiting for me or something? I didn’t get any calls. But I pull out my phone to double-check and see it’s dead. Shit.

“Hiding out,” I reply sliding it back into my pocket. “Like you said.”

“You couldn’t call?”