Red Thorns (Thorns Duet #1) by Rina Kent

And he’s naked. Fully.

My eyes fly open as I lean on my car. I try focusing on the droplets of water sticking to his six-pack or to the tattoos in Arabic and Japanese, but my eyes immediately stray down.

His eight-inch cock stands erect between his legs. It’s big when it’s flaccid, but it’s huge when hard and ready.

The veins pop on the side and the crown is purple and swelling, leaking with precum.

Fuck.

This is really not the image I need to see in my sexually-frustrated state of mind.

“Is that Sebastian?”

I startle and shove the phone in the pocket of my jeans at Lucy’s sheepish voice. Thank God she’s a safe distance away and she couldn’t have seen me ogling a dick pic.

“Why are you talking to me?” I sound like a bitch, but I really couldn’t care less at this point.

Maybe I’m indeed a bitch.

Lucy’s mouth turns downward. “I’m just trying to make convo.”

“Well, don’t.”

She sighs heavily. “I’m sorry. I’m ready to apologize for the rest of my life if you want.”

“Maybe I just need you to leave me alone.”

“Stop being an asshole.” Reina joins Lucy and crosses her arms.

She might have lost her memories and done a one hundred eighty-degree shift in personality, but apparently, she still likes Lucy.

And she still has that glare no level of amnesia can erase. “She already apologized to you.”

I place a hand on my hips. “Doesn’t mean I’ll forgive her.”

“You don’t have to, but that will only hurt you both in the long run. Weren’t you supposed to be best friends?”

“Best friends don’t stab each other in the back.” My voice breaks and I hate it. I hate the weakness.

“I didn’t mean to.” Lucy’s lids shine with tears. “I swear I didn’t want to hurt you, but I admit to being too blinded with the glamorous side of being popular and I let that get to my head, and for that, I’m terribly sorry.”

“It doesn’t matter whether you’re sorry or not. It changes nothing.”

“Of course, it does.” Reina sighs heavily. “Listen, the whole Sebastian thing is fucked up, but it’s all on me. Lucy had nothing to do with it, so if you want to blame anyone, blame me.”

“Blame you?” I laugh with no humor. “You don’t even remember why the hell you did it.”

“I’m sorry for that, too.” She lowers her gaze. “If I could, I would’ve found out why so I could give you closure.”

“Who says I need closure?” My voice breaks again and I curse myself for it.

Reina smiles and it’s weak—haunted, even.

She’s been making these types of expressions more often than not since she lost her memories and her estranged fiancé, Asher, returned to town.

“It’s okay if you do, Naomi,” she says. “We all do.”

Well, I don’t.

I really don’t.

Maybe if I repeat that long enough, I’ll start to believe it.





35





Sebastian





Naomi’s had enough time.

To reject me.

To pretend that she’s moving on.

But I know she isn’t.

How do I know? It’s simple.

The rage in her eyes that she projects onto the world is so similar to mine. Her need to snap at anyone and anything, then retreat into her bubble speaks volumes more than her scathing words.

They’re only armor she chooses to hide behind.

Because no matter how angry she is, no matter how much she hates me for succumbing to a stupid bet, she still looks up at me with those big brown eyes. She still has that spark only I can recognize.

I still feel her shudder whenever I corner her somewhere hidden on campus or near her favorite fountain where she usually has lunch.

After Grandma’s unveiled promise of retribution, I made it my mission to not be alone with Naomi. I take Debra Weaver and her threats seriously. The last time she made one to my dad, he and Mom ended up dead.

There’s no way in fuck I’m letting history repeat itself with Naomi. So in a way, I’ve been using this down period to make a case against Grandma’s theory. If she believes that I’m no longer interested in Naomi and that I caved to her threat and stopped seeing her, she’ll retract her claws.

That decision has had its own repercussions on me, though.

Not fucking my pretty toy for weeks has turned me into a bitter, raging asshole. I’m even worse than Asher now and have been punching Josh and anyone who even looks in Naomi’s direction.

I can’t help it.

The moment one of the guys has made any remarks toward her, no matter how innocent, I’ve had the need to pummel their faces to the ground. And not only in fantasy but also in harsh, unyielding reality. I had to do it outside of everyone’s view so I don’t tarnish the Weaver name and have my grandparents breathe down my neck.

But I reveled in every second of punching those assholes. Now, I understand why Asher broke his knuckles punching a guy who was flirting with Reina in high school.

It feels fucking euphoric.

Owen usually peels me off the fuckers before I break their faces.

Since Asher came back, he and Owen take me for drinks as if that will loosen me up. It’s made me even more volatile and I can barely stop myself from starting fights for no reason other than sheer fucking frustration.