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The last time, she’d been drunk. She’d gone along far too long, until she didn’t know what she initiated and what they intended. The last time, she’d wanted to be there. They might have taken it too far—way too far—but she’d started it.
She’d put up with all the crap at school because she hadn’t been able to figure out just how much was their fault—and how much was her own.
Now she knew. Now she wanted them to pay. To suffer.
Now she wanted to press charges, even if they stopped, got their hands off her legs, her arms, got their hands out of the top of her dress.
Would anyone believe her?
She bit the hand over her mouth. The guy swore and jerked his hand away.
She couldn’t think too hard about where other hands were. She’d lose it, turn into a puddle right here in the grass.
“Touch me again,” she snapped, baring her teeth at him, “and I’ll bite your fingers off.”
They laughed. The bastards. They laughed.
“I’ll press charges,” she swore. “You’ll all go to prison. You know what they do to ra**sts in prison—”
“God, shut her up.”
Seth Ramsey. She heard liquid slosh, the grunt of a guy taking a draw from a bottle.
“I’ll tell everyone.” Her voice sounded like a rush of air through her teeth. “They already think you did it—”
A body slid on top of hers, hot and heavy. Drew’s wool pants scratched her bare legs. His h*ps squared over hers, and she regretted the chiffon. She could feel everything. Everything.
She couldn’t breathe.
This was going to happen.
This was going to happen.
This was going to happen.
The clouds spun in the sky. Raindrops hit her cheeks and felt warm.
She saw stars. Grass dug through her hair to poke at her scalp.
“Hey, Becca.” Drew’s voice. She could smell the liquor on his breath. “Don’t you want to be conscious for this?”
Then he shifted, rubbing himself against her.
Even with clothes on, the feeling of violation was raw. She tried to curl in on herself, but there was nowhere to go.
He dropped his weight on her, his hand finding her knee and beginning a path up her leg. His hands were so hot. Rough on the sensitive skin of her thigh. She jerked away from him, but it put him more intimately against her.
She fought. She cried. She couldn’t help it.
He spat in her face. “God, you’re such a f**king tease. You know you want it.”
Some of his saliva got in her mouth. She coughed and spit, not wanting anything of his inside her. She thought she might vomit.
Maybe she’d choke and die.
“No, no, baby.” His face must have been close. She couldn’t see anything but the faint glitter in his eyes.
She clenched her own shut.
