The Game (That Girl, #2)(57)

“I f*cking need this. I need it with you.”

Levi keeps repeating the same phrase into my chest as he slams into me over and over. The way he violently f*cks me is almost frightening, but so exhilarating.

“I feel you, Levi. I’m hearing you, and I’m here. You have me.”

Levi stops his movement and carries me straight to our bed. He covers me in my favorite position and begins to move, filling me so completely it’s overwhelming, causing tears to swell in my eyes. His thrusts are slow and deliberate and about to set me off.

“Oh god, Levi. Make me come, please.”

“Thank you, Jazzy. Thank you for everything.”

He grunts, letting go, then his whole body collapses on mine. Carefully, I wrap my arms and legs around him, and he rolls us over so I’m on top. Within minutes I hear his heavy breathing and know he’s drifting off to sleep. His breathing mixed with the beat of his pounding heart begins to lull me to sleep.

“I love you, Levi Wilks.”

“I love you too, Jazzy.”

Did I hear him correctly? I want to smack myself to see if I’m dreaming or if I really heard what I just heard. I’m too scared to move, so I close my eyes and smile.

***

“Levi.” My arm slams across the bed, expecting to find the skin I’ve loved to call my own, but I only find a soft bed.

“Levi.”

Nothing.

I run to the bathroom.

Nothing.

The countertop. He’s making coffee. I sprint to the kitchen, and no Levi.

He’s having bacon and black coffee with Lynlee. I can smell it. In my navy blue robe, I burst into the garage, trip on Thor, and feel the immediate tear of my skin and the inevitable blood, and useless tears invade.

When I finally make it into the dining room, I was right about one thing. Lynlee is cooking bacon. Lincoln is sitting at the dining room table all by himself.

“You okay?” Lynlee asks. “Didn’t think you’d be up so early.”

“Did he…where is…?”

Lincoln walks over and grabs me, and I feel his words whisper down into my hair. “He left.”

This pain is an old friend. The barren sensation in my soul is a familiar feeling. I run out the garage, step over Thor, and run straight to my bedroom. Lynlee’s voice fills the kitchen and garage as I make my escape. I turn back right before slamming the door to the guesthouse to see Lincoln holding her back.

He’s always been the smartest of the bunch. I guarantee he understands no one can fix this pain but me. Throwing myself down onto the bed I try to calm myself and remind my brain I knew this was the inevitable. Fuck, Levi has been upfront since day one. He doesn’t do love or relationships. I’m the fool, and the one who let her heart believe in something that could never happen.

The silent pain builds higher and higher as each thought runs through my mind. I need a release. A release that’ll make me forget Number Eleven, his hands, looks, and charm.

My feet carry me to the bathroom, and without thinking I snag the scissors from the medicine cabinet. Every move I make is robotic. I need to feel something other than the pain I’ve felt day after day. It numbed and went away for a few weeks with Levi in my life, but now it’s back, and the need for it to vanish is overwhelming. I roll over my left arm and examine the flesh. It’s a perfect blank canvas.

Sliding open the scissors, I steady the brilliantly sharp point, and take in one final breath of dreaded pain.

A black and white flash distracts me from the shiny silver of the scissors. Killer jumps up on the counter. He has his head tilted sideways, purring at me. It doesn’t take him long before he’s rubbing up against me, begging for me to pick him up. With his steady purrs, I try to calm myself, and I recall his vet appointment tomorrow for his shots.

I drop the scissors into the sink and pick up Killer. He snuggles deep down into my chest, and it’s almost as if he knows I need him in this moment.

“You little bastard.” I walk back over to Lynlee’s house holding my cat. I need those scissors out of my house. My skin is more important than the need. I have to hold on, even if it’s day to day. I’ll hold on.





Chapter 15





Lynlee



Three Weeks Later

“Un-f*cking-believable,” I whisper to myself. “This has to be wrong. No way it can be right.”

“Who are you talking to?” Lynlee asks.

I throw all the evidence under the sink with one quick sweep.

“Fuck, don’t you know how to knock, Lynlee?”

“Sorry.”

“You just scared the shit out of me, that’s all. Sorry for yelling.”

“I brought breakfast and want all the details.” Lynlee’s face beams as she holds up a bag of fast food with a greasy bottom.

We find a spot on the couch, and of course Killer is right there looking for food. In a not so sneaky fashion, Lynlee snags the hem of my shirt, peeking under it. She does this at least once a week since that awful day. She’s never found any more fresh wounds, but today her action makes me tense on the inside, and I want to push her away.

Lynlee seems satisfied with her findings and goes straight back to grilling me about my date. “So how was the date with Jake?”

“Meh,” I say around a mouthful of food.