My Bastard by Ellie Jean

Author:Ellie Jean [Jean, Ellie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: novel
Publisher: Ellie Jean
Published: 2018-09-23T18:30:00+00:00

I’ve said it before—I’m stupid with a capital S.

I’d laid on the floor in a Slate-induced coma until I heard his voice from the hallway.

Running my fingers up the insides of my legs confirmed his statement. What is it with this guy that sends me into a stupor? I’m on birth control, but going bareback with a player like Slate reminds me of how goddamn stupid I am.

Chastising myself for the entire eighteen minutes it took me to get ready, I once again am dressed, waiting for him and his colleagues to join me in the office space somewhere above his apartment. My stomach clenches in dread.

What disease has he passed onto me?

How was I so foolish?

Rubbing my face with my hands, the silence around me is deafening. This room screams authority. It has white walls, clean-cut lines, and solid furniture in the tones of teal and black. I’m sitting at a huge table in the middle of the room, with twelve black leather chairs alongside me. Opposite me, a teal jug with glasses surrounding it is sitting in the middle of the black table and a small teal cupboard occupies the corner.

The oversized black clock hanging from the wall is driving me insane.

Tick, tock, tick, tock…

Watching the minutes pass by is playing with my mind. Reaching forward, I pour myself a glass of water. I need to calm down.

Where is Slate? Why am I alone here?

I dip my fingers in my glass of water and run the coolness of it behind my hair, along my neck. My pulse slows a little as I concentrate on the drops running down my skin.

I have to ask him about his sexual history. How fucking embarrassing.

Gulping down some water, the liquid cools me from inside, and my churning stomach eases a little.

A roar fills my ears, and my heartbeat kicks into overdrive.

The sound of a Mustang, like mine, echoes through the room. The lights drop, and a screen replaces the wall in front of me.

Holy hell…

My car is on the screen, racing a guy from months back. Struck by what I am seeing, I watch like an eagle. My head shakes side to side, my feet planted firmly on the floor. I know I am watching the near miss. It was way too close. The driver had gone around the corner too sharp and lost control of his car in-front of me. Slamming on the brakes, I was lucky not to have a head on collision with the idiot. Deeply breathing through my nose, I cast a look down at the table then back up. Obviously, I survive, but it freaked me out to the point I didn’t race for a few weeks. My hands grip my legs.

More races transfix my vision. The rumble of her engine is one of the best sounds on this planet. Watching myself race, handling the curves, maneuvering the classic with precision, makes me lift my chin with pride. My fingers release their hold on my legs.

Freedom and the adrenaline crossing through my veins in those seconds are worth the risk.

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