Trapped (Bullied Book 4) (Bullied Series) Vera Hollins (best large ereader txt) 📖

turn on the flashlight on my phone, but he tripped over the box I’d lowered next to me and collided with me. We lost our balance and fell on the floor.

The air was sucked out of my lungs when nearly all of his hard-muscled body ended up on top of me, both our phones lost somewhere in the darkness. I brought my hands to his waist to get him off me, fazed by his warmth and his scent that stirred my insides.

“Blake, you’re crushing me,” I said, but he barely shifted his weight off me. He was breathing so fast it was becoming alarming.

“I can’t stay here,” he cried out. His shaking got stronger. “I can’t stay here. I can’t stay. I have to get out of here.”

He scrambled up to his feet, but he ran into something next to me and dropped right back down with a curse. He was wheezing. Feeling the floor around me, I reached him on my knees. I could sense him better now that I wasn’t relying on my sight anymore. My concern for him won out over any distance I wanted to put between us, and I decided to help him get through this.

“Hey, calm down. You’ll hyperventilate if you keep going like this,” I said softly. He whimpered. I outstretched my arm toward him on impulse. “It’s all right.” My hand found his shoulder, and he flinched. “You’re going to get out of here, but first, take deep breaths.”

He was still panting, and I stroked his back in a reassuring way, reveling in the feel of him. In this darkness, we weren’t enemies. In this darkness, our painful past didn’t exist. In this darkness, there was just his hurt and my need to make it disappear.

“Everything’s okay,” I whispered.

A few minutes passed, but I didn’t stop caressing his back until his breathing returned to normal and he stopped trembling. We slid into complete silence. His addictive warmth seeped into my palm through his shirt, and only then did I realize I shouldn’t have been touching him. I whipped my hand back, trying to even out my erratic breathing as I waited for his reaction.

His attack never came, and the atmosphere between us shifted. The air filled with anticipation. I could have sworn he’d turned around and was now facing me on his knees.

“Why did you help me?” he whispered, rousing butterflies in my stomach. He was so, so close, and I was sure he was able to hear the wild pounding of my heart.

“You needed help. I couldn’t just stand aside while you had a breakdown.”

“Anyone else would have done exactly that in your place.”

I shrugged my shoulders, even though he couldn’t see that. “Well, I’m not like that.”

His breath fanned my face, and I curled my fingers into fists on my lap, glued to the spot.

“You’re right,” he said quietly. “You’re not like that at all.”

He placed his hand on my waist, and I sucked in air. My pulse went crazy at the sudden contact. I was astonished that he was touching me, reminded of the exact moment we’d shared in that dark closet two months ago. It was just like this…

“Only you,” he said.

My chest ached. “Only me?”

“Only you managed to make it go away.”

Whoa. I could feel his face only inches away from mine as his breath caressed the side of my neck, and I couldn’t recall a single reason why I shouldn’t let him do this. He nuzzled my neck, creating an explosion of emotions in me, and it was like a dream come true. My heart embraced this greedily even though my mind tried to fight it.

“Blake…”

“You smell like jasmine…,” he whispered into my skin, removing my hair from my shoulder. And then…then he grazed my earlobe with his lips, a touch so light it could’ve been my imagination.

I breathed hard, struggling to remember everything he’d done to me. I shouldn’t have been allowing him to do this…I should have pushed him away right this second, and I raised my hands to do just that—

“Kids? Are you there?”

I jerked and looked at the janitor standing in the doorway with a flashlight. Blake had already pulled away from me before the beam of light reached us, confirming that the moment we’d shared was just an illusion and a big mistake.

“There you are,” Mr. Maynard said in relief. “The electricity’s out, but it should be back in an hour or so. Are you two okay?”

I cleared my throat. “Yes. We’re okay,” I replied and looked at Blake.

“Then let’s go. I’ll get you out of here.”

I could hardly process Mr. Maynard’s words as I took in Blake’s expression.

He just stared at me like he couldn’t believe what had just happened between us. Something resembling regret passed over his face just briefly, but it was enough to cause another gash in my heart. He shut himself off, the all-too-familiar ice back in his eyes.

Without a word, he picked up his phone before he sprang up and darted out of the room.

Angry with myself, I got back home and spent the whole evening playing my guitar, singing until my throat was sore. It was my refuge but also punishment for allowing my compassion to rub away all those bad memories. I shouldn’t have touched him. When I heard him panic and lose control, I should’ve done something—anything—else instead of breaking the barrier between us and initiating contact.

As if that wasn’t enough, as if I’d lost my brain somewhere along the way, I hadn’t moved away when he came so close to me and said those rousing words. I’d practically served myself to him on a silver platter.

At least our detention was over, and I didn’t have to stress myself out about spending time alone with him. Blake didn’t come to school, so I had the whole Friday away from him, which was the only bright spot after the week’s recurring disasters.

Friday evening meant a new session with my therapist