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“You fucking whore!” he shrieked and batted the can from my hand before grabbing my hair at the base of my neck so he could control the movement of my head. Then he shoved me toward the bed as if to rub my nose in the condom and tell me I’d been a bad girl. “You fucked him on my fucking bed. How fucking dare you? How fucking…” Voice choking hoarse, he let go of me, shoving as he did, so that I tripped forward and had to catch myself on the edge of his mattress.
On the other side of the room, the sound of fists punching, knuckles against flesh, swearing, and grunts filtered over to me.
“Wick,” I gasped, turning to check on him, but Topher appeared in my face.
“How long has it been going on?” he demanded, his eyes glazed with a crazy rage as he gathered a handful of his bedding and shoved it at me, jamming it in my face until I was momentarily suffocated.
Not sure how far he’d go since I’d never seen him like this before, I fought back, frantic, batting and struggling until I was able to suck in fresh air.
“Topher,” I shrieked, trying to get him to stop.
But he only pressed his face against mine—forehead to forehead—and growled, “Answer the goddamn question. How fucking long have you been fucking him? Was it the entire time we were together? Were the two of you just laughing behind my back while you fucked me over?”
I don’t know why I answered him the way I did. But I wasn’t going to be the helpless victim. I wasn’t going to beg, or plead, or act nice to get him to stop. Not at this point.
So I hardened my jaw and glared him right in the face as I said, “Maybe.”
With a hiss, he slapped me. Hard.
I saw stars. The world tipped to the side and a ringing pounded through my ears.
The next thing I knew, an animalistic roar filled the entire room. Then Topher was jerked free of me as Wick tackled him to the floor.
38
Haven
Gripping my knees for dear life, I sat in the corner chair in the front room of Wick’s and my apartment with a snoozing Bingley on my lap—her heat soaking through my jeans with a comfort I didn’t deserve—and watched the door fly open, admitting yet another one of Wick’s friends.
“I just heard,” J.J. McCannon
announced, going straight to Wick, who was pacing the floor in front of me. “What the fuck happened? Why didn’t anyone call me sooner?”
Wick held up a hand to get him to back off. J.J. paused, frowned in confusion, and then glanced at his other friends, silently asking for an explanation. But they just shook their heads, not even sure how to start. So his attention veered back to Wick, who hadn’t stopped walking around the room since another one of his friends had dragged him home.
I guess Zack Polansky—the other friend who’d dragged him home—had been at Topher’s party when everything had gone down. He’d been the only person able to pull Wick off Topher after Wick had attacked him. He might’ve gotten a black eye for his efforts, though. He was currently sitting in a chair on the opposite side of the room as me, holding a bag of frozen peas to his face.
Wick only paused his pacing to glance at me and ask for about the hundredth time. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine,” I repeated for the hundred and first time.
“You have a red mark,” he said. “Why don’t you have an ice pack too?”
“I’ll get her one,” José Rivera offered, popping up from the couch where he’d been sitting, crammed between two other football players.
As he darted from the room, J.J. lifted his hands and demanded, “Is anyone going to tell me what the fuck happened?”
Arlo Roark cleared his throat. “Well, Web and Nicholl’s girl over there—”
“I’m not his girl,” I muttered at the very same moment Wick growled, “She’s not his girl.”
Arlo rolled his eyes and waved a dismissive hand. “Wick and Whatever-her-name-is crashed Nicholl’s party and fucked each other on his bed, only to get caught by—”
“They what?” J.J. whirled to gape incredulously at Wick. “Since when are you two fucking?”
When I realized Wick wasn’t going to answer him, I sighed and confessed, “We’re not.”
“That’s not what I heard,” Arlo returned. “I heard she was still holding her bra in her hand, there was a used condom on the bed, and—”
