Read Online Finding Me (The Bad Boy Series) by S.K. Hartley - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: S.K. Hartley
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tossed and turned all night, thinking about her and letting my subconscious drift back to the day I took her, in every way. The way she came apart in my hands. The soft moans that passed her bruised lips, lips I bruised with kisses. I loved every single inch of her that night, including the broken parts.
I wasn't a saint, I'd slept with half of the women on campus. It was mindless sex, another way for me to try and rid her from my mind. But nothing and no one compared to how I felt when she was in my arms. Dammit, I could still feel her. Everywhere. Her lips against my skin, her nails in my back, her thighs around my hips. But the place where I could feel her most was the place that had been filled with a mind-numbing ache ever since she left me the morning after. My heart.
The sound of plates clattering in the kitchen suddenly pulled me out of my self-induced misery. I winced as I sat up on the sofa. My muscles had completely seized from my own stupidity. I needed to move. I slowly stood up and made my way to the kitchen, stopping stock still when I saw my mom making pancakes.
"Mom?" I whispered from my spot just outside the kitchen door.
She quickly whipped her head around to me, flashing me a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. She was putting on a brave face for me.
"Come on, sweetie. I made you breakfast," she said in a sing-song voice.
I tentatively walked into the large kitchen and took a seat at the table, the smell of pancakes made my mouth water. Mom silently placed a plate stacked full of pancakes in front of me and took the seat opposite. She sat quietly as I dove into my pancakes.
"Are you going to tell me what happened?" she whispered, her eyes never leaving mine.
I studied her for a minute, taking in her beauty. It was no secret that my mom was striking. The guys used to make jokes how they would love to bone my mom. That was, until I broke the nose of another quarterback who said it with a little too much enthusiasm. My mom was elegant, her blonde curls giving her a look of innocence, while her brown and green eyes showed nothing but years of pain.
She was devastated when my dad left. He had completely crumbled her spirit and left her with a toddler. He had run off with a woman half his age. His secretary. Fucking vermin. At the age of five, I vowed never to hurt my mom the way he had. I promised I would protect her from anything. But right now, I couldn't protect her from the hurt she felt for me.
"I don't think I should," I murmured.
"Logan Marcus White. You will tell me what is going on right now, or so help me God, I will shove those pancakes right down your throat," she said determinedly.
My mouth dropped open at the mention of my full name and the threat of pancakes being shoved down my throat. I snapped my mouth closed, and for the first time in months, I laughed. I laughed until tears fell from my eyes and I had to hold my stomach.
"Did you really just threaten to shove pancakes down my throat?" I asked through my uncontrollable laughter.
"Yes, I did." She smiled.
"Mom, you're so badass." I chuckled.
"Watch that mouth, young man. Otherwise it will be soap I shove down that throat, not pancakes," she said with a smile.
"Mom! Really?" I laughed.
"Logan." She sighed.
She wanted to know what was going on, and why I all but collapsed on her hallway floor last night. I sighed and took a deep breath, trying to find the courage I needed to tell her what I did.
"I don't even know where to start," I said, putting my fork on the table, running my fingers through my hair.
"How about at the beginning?"
For the next hour, I poured my heart out to the one woman who would never hurt me. The one woman who understood everything when it came to my feelings for Neva.
"So, you left?" she asked. Her eyes filled with unshed tears.
"Yeah." I sighed, putting my head into my heads.
"Logan, I know how much you love her. Never, ever doubt that. But have you ever thought that, maybe, she is just too
I wasn't a saint, I'd slept with half of the women on campus. It was mindless sex, another way for me to try and rid her from my mind. But nothing and no one compared to how I felt when she was in my arms. Dammit, I could still feel her. Everywhere. Her lips against my skin, her nails in my back, her thighs around my hips. But the place where I could feel her most was the place that had been filled with a mind-numbing ache ever since she left me the morning after. My heart.
The sound of plates clattering in the kitchen suddenly pulled me out of my self-induced misery. I winced as I sat up on the sofa. My muscles had completely seized from my own stupidity. I needed to move. I slowly stood up and made my way to the kitchen, stopping stock still when I saw my mom making pancakes.
"Mom?" I whispered from my spot just outside the kitchen door.
She quickly whipped her head around to me, flashing me a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. She was putting on a brave face for me.
"Come on, sweetie. I made you breakfast," she said in a sing-song voice.
I tentatively walked into the large kitchen and took a seat at the table, the smell of pancakes made my mouth water. Mom silently placed a plate stacked full of pancakes in front of me and took the seat opposite. She sat quietly as I dove into my pancakes.
"Are you going to tell me what happened?" she whispered, her eyes never leaving mine.
I studied her for a minute, taking in her beauty. It was no secret that my mom was striking. The guys used to make jokes how they would love to bone my mom. That was, until I broke the nose of another quarterback who said it with a little too much enthusiasm. My mom was elegant, her blonde curls giving her a look of innocence, while her brown and green eyes showed nothing but years of pain.
She was devastated when my dad left. He had completely crumbled her spirit and left her with a toddler. He had run off with a woman half his age. His secretary. Fucking vermin. At the age of five, I vowed never to hurt my mom the way he had. I promised I would protect her from anything. But right now, I couldn't protect her from the hurt she felt for me.
"I don't think I should," I murmured.
"Logan Marcus White. You will tell me what is going on right now, or so help me God, I will shove those pancakes right down your throat," she said determinedly.
My mouth dropped open at the mention of my full name and the threat of pancakes being shoved down my throat. I snapped my mouth closed, and for the first time in months, I laughed. I laughed until tears fell from my eyes and I had to hold my stomach.
"Did you really just threaten to shove pancakes down my throat?" I asked through my uncontrollable laughter.
"Yes, I did." She smiled.
"Mom, you're so badass." I chuckled.
"Watch that mouth, young man. Otherwise it will be soap I shove down that throat, not pancakes," she said with a smile.
"Mom! Really?" I laughed.
"Logan." She sighed.
She wanted to know what was going on, and why I all but collapsed on her hallway floor last night. I sighed and took a deep breath, trying to find the courage I needed to tell her what I did.
"I don't even know where to start," I said, putting my fork on the table, running my fingers through my hair.
"How about at the beginning?"
For the next hour, I poured my heart out to the one woman who would never hurt me. The one woman who understood everything when it came to my feelings for Neva.
"So, you left?" she asked. Her eyes filled with unshed tears.
"Yeah." I sighed, putting my head into my heads.
"Logan, I know how much you love her. Never, ever doubt that. But have you ever thought that, maybe, she is just too
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