Red Thorns: A Dark New Adult Romance (Thorns Duet Book 1)

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.

That’s what happens when addiction is taken away.

Or obsession.

Or fucking companionship.

Naomi has become a huge part of my life that I can no longer survive without.

I don’t know how it got so serious so fast, but it did.

I even asked Nate to look for the fucking asshole, Sam Miller, who dared to put his hands on my Naomi when she was nine. After she told me the story in Owen’s party, it took everything I had not to release my rage and pummel everything in sight.

The thought of her being hurt and scared cut deeper than any fucking thing I went through.

I don’t know what I would do to the bastard when I find him, but it’s probably something more violent than anything I’ve committed so far.

Truth is, I have no clue how far my limits stretch when it comes to Naomi. Especially if it has to do with the low fucking life who traumatized her.

My uncle pulled some strings with his detective friends, and they found that Sam was filed missing in records. Nate said he could’ve run away or living in another country. But that doesn’t mean I’ll give up. I’ll find the bastard and make him pay.

With his life, if need be.

I’m honestly not above that when it comes to Naomi.

Owen told me to find a pussy to wet my dick in and relieve some tension. I punched him. As if that would be possible or I’d be interested in anyone else after I had my Naomi.

No one can match up to her fire, her fight, and even her adorable innocence, and it’s not for lack of trying. Countless girls, cheerleaders included, throw themselves at me at every game. I only let them to gauge Naomi’s reaction.

Often times, she glares before she lowers her head and leaves. At that exact moment, I push away whatever girl is clinging to me.

I have no interest in fucking anyone but her.

Which brings me to the reason why I’m here.

In front of her house.

I shouldn’t be, not when Grandma could be having someone watching this place.

But it’s been four weeks already. Even my grandma wouldn’t keep up for this long.

Besides, it’s late and I have my hoodie on.

Ms. Chester’s car isn’t in the driveway, just as I’d hoped. The front door is closed, but I’m not going through there, anyway. Naomi already gave me the alarm code a while back, when I snuck in. Here’s to hoping they didn’t change it.

I round the house and climb the tree until I’m near Naomi’s balcony, then jump onto it. My movements are silent as I slide the door open, slip inside, and deactivate the alarm. Same code as before.

Naomi isn’t in her room. Not a surprise there either.

I slowly go down the stairs to where the TV screen is shining in the living room. Ominous music from the latest true crime show she’s watching fills the air.

That’s when I get my first full view of her.

Naomi hugs a pillow to her chest and she holds a bottle of juice, her lips wrapped around a straw. The TV casts a pale blue light on her petite features.

She’s so fucking beautiful, it hurts.

Her dark eyes are wide and her lips tremble in complete concentration. I’ve always loved how scared she gets while watching these shows, but she still seeks them out, anyway.

She still enjoys the thrill they provide.

I sneak up on her from behind just as a retelling of events plays out on the screen. I wrap my hand around her throat and she jolts.

Just when she’s about to scream, I slam a palm over her mouth, then lean in to whisper, “Scream and I’ll fuck you up.”

Her eyes widen and I can feel the exact moment she recognizes me by the slight relaxation in her shoulders and how her breath whooshes into my hand.

But then she stiffens again and throws the pillow back at my face. She follows with the bottle of juice, but I tilt my head to the side and it ends up crashing against the ground.

Naomi kicks her legs in the air and mumbles against my hand. My dick hardens in my jeans in a second as I smell her fight in the air.

I hop over the back of the sofa so I’m on top of her. She doesn’t let me pin her down without a struggle, though.

Her nails scratch and her feet kick anywhere she can reach me.

“Fuck, baby. I’ve missed your fight.”

My hand tightens around her throat as I pin her to the sofa. She wheezes for breath and I grunt. “I’ll let your mouth go, but if you scream, I’ll choke you again.”

She doesn’t nod; then again, she can’t with my firm hold on her throat.

So I remove my palm from her face, only to crash my mouth to hers.

She whimpers against me, then tries to bite down on my lip and draw blood, but I thrust my tongue inside and conquer hers.

I don’t leave her room to breathe, let alone fight.

Fuck, how much I missed kissing her, how much I missed her low moans and erotic whimpers. Even her sniffling sounds turn me on more than any other fucking thing on earth.

I kiss her hard, then slow, toying with her limits and blurring her lines. My chest covers her heaving tits and my fingers dig into the soft flesh of her neck.

I kiss her with an urgency that tightens my balls and rushes all my blood to my dick.

She still tries to fight, even as her legs open. She tries to bite, even when her tongue takes tentative strokes from mine.

Then she’s mumbling something against me.

Some curse words. Some choice words.

But I take them all.

I’d take anything as long as she’s by my fucking side.

“I…hate…you…” she mumbles between pants and sniffles.

I smile.

I fucking smile, because all this time, I thought she was fighting to tell me the safe word.

The one word that I gave her to get rid of me once and for all.

I reach a hand between us underneath her oversized shirt and jam my fingers against her panties. I groan low in my throat when her wetness soaks my skin.

“Hate me for fucking eternity as long as your cunt wants me.”

I can feel her glare in the darkness, stabbing me in the chest. “It’s only a physical reaction. It means nothing.”

“I’ll take what I can get.”

“I told you we’re over.”

“I never agreed to that.”

“Just leave me the fuck alone!”

“No,” I whisper against her throat as I dart my tongue out and lick all the way from her jaw to her earlobe.

She shudders, her legs clenching, and I do it again until I can feel her melting beneath me.

Her fight is still there, I’ll give her that, but I don’t stop as I pry her thighs open and rub her clit over her panties.

“This cunt is mine, baby. You’re all mine. Just because I gave you space doesn’t mean we’re over.”

She whimpers when I lick her lips, then jam my tongue in her wet mouth.

I kiss her more savagely, more hungrily. I kiss her for all the times I haven’t kissed her in fucking weeks. My tongue ravishes hers, bruising it, luring it, until she kisses me back. Until her strokes meet mine and her arousal floods my hand.

Her pulse heightens beneath my fingers, turning erratic and out of fucking control.

Just like my own.

Only one woman would extract this reaction out of me and it’s her.

My Naomi.

The front door opens and we both freeze.

“Nao-chan, are you still awake? I brought Chinese.”

Naomi’s eyes widen as I pull my head back, then she mouths, “Go!”

My lips twist in a snarl, but I don’t make a move to leave.

“Nao-chan?” Her mother’s voice gets nearer.

Naomi digs her fingers into my side, eyes asking, imploring. “Go…”

I lift myself off of her in one swift movement, but not before stealing one last kiss from her swollen lips. “This isn’t over, baby.”