Preppy: The Life & Death of Samuel Clearwater, Part Three
Page 5

I smiled, still not able to believe that we’d both came out slightly worse for the wear but alive after a night that could have ended so differently and so much more deadly.
Preppy sighed and played with the hem of the shirt on my knees. “I don’t really want to talk about this shit right now. I want you to rest, but I gotta ask you, Doc. Did you see who it was?”
I shook my head and looked over at the wall, focusing my attentions on the Cinderella clock over the bathroom door, hoping something would come to me that could help.
“How about a car?” he prompted. “A make or a model?”
I shook my head.
“Color?”
I closed my eyes and searched for the answers to his questions, but I came up blank. “I...I was in the trunk. I popped the emergency latch.”
Preppy grimaced but quickly covered it up with a soft smile. “That’s...that’s good, Doc. Quick thinking. Plus, emergency latches were only put in cars starting in the early 2000’s, so that’s something to start with. Anything else?”
I thought some more. “The car stopped when the person driving realized the trunk was open. They started to come for me. I heard them, but your lights must have scared them off. Next thing I know your truck is skidding to a halt a few inches from me and I don’t remember much after that. I don’t even know how I got back here.”
“You passed out. Shock,” Preppy said. “I carried you back.”
“You’re not hurt?” I said, pointing to a cut on his chest that was still seeping blood.
Preppy shook his head. “The only thing that would have hurt me is losing you.”
“Me too,” I said, feeling the tears welling up again. I felt an itch on the back of my neck and went to scratch it, finding some sort of gauze taped to my skin. “What is this?” I asked, scratching over the wrap.
“Don’t,” Preppy said, gently grabbing my wrist, pressing a soft kiss to my knuckles. “It’s just a cut. You needed a few stitches is all. You don’t wanna rip them out. Stitches suck a lot more when you’re conscious.” He set my hand down on the bed and laced his fingers with mine, and I felt myself relax, my shoulders fell, and my guard came tumbling down.
Preppy stroked my arm as he talked, trailing his fingers up and down my skin. “Thought I lost you.” He laughed, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Again.”
“Nah. Can’t get rid of me that easily,” I said, leaning into his touch. “Who do you think could have done this?” I asked.
“I was about to ask you the same thing. I talked to King and Bear, and the only thing we can come up with is that Bear’s been diving heavily into trying to find out who might have been working with Chop to cover up that I was alive. People in the morgue, coroner's, doctors, nurses. Shit, even the people at the funeral home.”
“So you think it could be someone who thinks Bear’s getting too close to the truth?” I asked.
“Maybe, but it still doesn’t make sense why they’d come for you and not directly for me. The other theory is that it could just be someone who doesn’t like that I’m up and breathing again and wants to get to me through you, although I’m a fairly amazing person so I have no fucking clue who that could be. We’re looking into everyone. Including Kevin.”
“Your brother?” I asked.
“Let’s face it, Doc. He did just kind of come out of nowhere and I still don’t really know what he’s all about. I’m going to spend some more time with him. Find out what his story is,” Preppy said. Preppy’s eyebrows turned inward, creases in his forehead deepened. “Dre look. I’m so fucking sorry...”
“No,” I interrupted him. “You stop that. I could have lost you too. I can’t do that again do you hear me? I can’t.”
Preppy stood and leaned over me until I was forced to lie back onto the mattress, his hands on both sides of the bed. He looked angry when he said, “I’ll never leave you, and you’ll never leave me. Is that understood?”
“It is,” I said.
The air between us grew thick. I reached out and wiped the blood from the scrape on his chest with my finger. The drop was bigger than I’d thought. It ran down into the lines of my palm, painting the flesh of my hand with his blood.
I glanced back up where the blood had now pooled around one of Preppy’s hard nipples. I pressed my thighs together, ignoring the soreness and pain radiating from my legs and focusing instead on the feral way Preppy’s nostrils flared as he glanced at his blood on my hand.
He then followed my gaze to his chest.
My skin flushed, and I suddenly felt light-headed.
A shiver ran down my spine.
I reached out to touch him again but pulled back when I realized I was trembling.
“Shit,” Preppy swore when he noticed the blood pouring out in a slow but steady stream. He looked from the scratch to me. Neither one of us made a move to clean the blood off ourselves or one another, just continued to stare at one another.
My mouth grew dry.
I couldn’t say the same for my panties.
Preppy breathed in deep. A growl erupted from deep within his throat, a sound that made my entire body hum with awareness. He grabbed two fistfuls of my shirt and tore it open, sending buttons careening around the bed and onto the floor.
“That was your shirt,” I pointed out, breathing heavily. My face flushed and my cheeks grew hot.
Preppy raked his gaze over my exposed breasts and hardened nipples, and I felt my body come alive under his inspection. “I don’t fucking care,” he said. “I’d tear every fucking shirt I ever had to shreds for this. I’d walk around shirtless every single day just to see you like this for one fucking second.”
Preppy lifted his eyes from my body and our gazes locked.
One heartbeat.
Two.
Then all holy hell broke loose.
Preppy’s mouth came crashing down over mine as the dam built out of concern for one another’s well-being broke apart, flooding the air around us with pure unbridled lust. The want and need to feel connected took precedence over everything including breathing. Our tongues collided and tangled. I fisted a handful of his hair and tugged him closer. We couldn’t get close enough fast enough.
Not then.
Not ever.
Preppy reached around my back and lifted my hips so that my core was flush against his hardness under his pants. I moaned when I felt his heat through the fabric. He grabbed the underside of one of my thighs, kneading it with his hands before forcing my legs around his waist.