Wanton by Lynn Michaels

Author:Lynn Michaels [Michaels, Lynn]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3, mobi
Published: 2016-03-08T00:00:00+00:00

11 Reflections

Hours later, Corey sat on the couch in the living room, wrapping his arms around his shoulders and stomach. Everyone had left, including Mick, who had been very helpful. He’d been right there by Corey's side looking up emergency phone numbers and kicking the guests out and more importantly, keeping Corey from completely freaking out.

Jack was in jail.

Whoever the asshole was that had assaulted Corey pressed charges for assault against Jack for defending Corey. How bitterly ironic.

Corey listened to the silence. He'd been here without Jack before, but this time it was striking, significant. He was truly alone, not just waiting for Jack to get home. His eyes were constantly drawn to the blood stain on the carpet. Jack would be so upset, but he couldn't get the stain out.

He'd taken three showers since everyone had left. He felt so violated and alone. He was as stained as the carpet.

He’d placed his trust in Jack completely, and he'd never been so let down. Granted, Jack punched the guy multiple times, but Jack shouldn't have left him vulnerable to someone who couldn't be trusted, especially with the state of mind Corey had been in. He had been unable to defend himself, protect himself. He felt like a fool. He felt like a loser, unworthy.

Corey thought he was done with tears, but they started up again as if the next round of sharp thoughts cut him physically, making him cry.

Jack's lawyer told him to get some sleep; nothing would happen before morning. He also told Corey to press his own assault charges. There were plenty of witnesses, but Corey didn't know any of them. He didn't even know the bastard's name that started this shit. He'd wait until Jack got out, and do what Jack wanted.

What Jack wanted? That's what led them to this mess in the first place.

Corey leaned over and screamed into the couch cushion.

He couldn't trust Jack anymore. Where did that leave them?

He wanted to call Dirk and go over to his old place, even if it meant crashing on the couch, just so he could feel safe. He couldn't leave the penthouse, though. Couldn't bring himself to leave. Couldn't bring himself to go sleep in Jack's bed, either. He sat on the leather couch, staring at that bloody red spot in the middle of all that pristine white carpet.

He was straddling that zone where Jack often led him between happiness and total failure, bliss and torture. He should be used to it, but this time the razors cut too deep.

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