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Trent narrowed his eyes at Seth. “No, but you’re fucking getting it any goddamn way. My sister gives a fuck about you, dick. I’m doing this for her. I frankly don’t give a fuck what happens to you.” He turned on his heel. “Let’s fucking go.”
Seth glared down at me as my brother walked off with Gemma. “Are you always this much of a fucking bother?” he demanded to know.
I stood up from the picnic table, glaring up at him as well. “I didn’t fucking ask him to do that,” I reminded him. “If you fucking recall, I didn’t even know what the fuck was going on,” I snarled at him.
He laughed, but it sounded bitter and cold, sending chills down my spine—and not the good kind. “Right. I forgot how sheltered your life has been. A fucking virgin—thought getting fucked in the front seat of my truck would get you some kind of relationship.” His words cut me. I bit my tongue to keep from crying, forcing myself to focus on something other than the pain of his words. “You don’t know shit about the real world, Bailey Donovan.”
I clenched my jaw, swallowing down the lump in my throat. “Go fuck yourself, Seth,” I snapped, but it came out weak.
I turned on my heel and stepped away, but his hand came over my shoulder, spinning me back around. He sighed, sliding his hand down my arm until his hand circled my wrist. “I’m sorry.” He sighed. “Fuck. I’m not good at this shit. I’m being a dick, and I’ve got no reason to be—not toward you, anyway.”
“Let me go,” I demanded, trying to rip my wrist from his grip.
He growled and yanked me closer to him, sending me crashing against his chest. His lips came down on mine, kissing me so deeply that I moaned, my head spinning. My belly clenched, my nipples hardening.
His tongue dove between my parted lips, and he took every part of me that he could, branding his name on my soul.
I was so, so fucked.
