It probably wasn't.  I kept her crushed against me as I rubbed out every last twitch. 

Even with a heavy dose of trepidation mixed in, it was glorious.

She had to wriggle against me for a time before I'd let her loose.  When I finally did, she shoved her hands against my shoulders, pushing away from me, drawing me out of her with one long, decisive pull.

I couldn't help it, I tilted my head down to watch. 

I shuddered as I noticed the evidence of our passion on her thighs.      

It was a sight to behold, if you're animal enough to like that sort of thing.

I certainly am. 

She moved away from me without another word, striding naked into the bathroom. 

I collapsed back on the couch, feeling exhaustion creep over me.  I didn't even have the wherewithal to be worried just then.  I was nothing but spent. 

It seemed I blinked and she was out of the bathroom and dressed again, looking like she hadn't just rocked my world on her lunch break. 

I rallied myself enough to speak up when I realized she was just going to leave.  "Wait," I said weakly, barely keeping my eyes open.  "You didn't answer my question.

She paused, eyeing me with spectacular detachment.  "Did you answer any of mine?  Goodbye, Dante.  Don't be here when I come back."

"Can you wake me up at the soonest possible moment?" I murmured at the empty trailer about a second before I passed out.  

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

"Doubt thou the stars are fire, Doubt that the sun doth move. Doubt truth to be a liar, But never doubt I love."

~William Shakespeare

PAST

SCARLETT

Weeks went by and there was no progress in the police investigation.  No arrests were made. 

I was too creeped out by Harris to pursue it, in fact, I actively avoided dealing with him, but with every day that passed, Dante became increasingly disturbed, and I became progressively more paranoid. 

I dropped out of drama exactly three days after the attack.  Gram's house was just too inviting for me.  And of course, there was Gram herself, always there to greet me when I arrived.  For the first time in my life, I felt like I had a home I was welcomed in, and I spent as much time there as I possibly could.  I'd have dropped out of school without a qualm if I hadn't known it would've disappointed her.  

Dante didn't like it.  He threatened more than once to quit football in response to my change in schedule, but perversely I was the one that talked him out of it.  We were co-dependent enough without inventing new reasons not to leave each other's sight. 

A few weeks later, I was willing to rethink my position on the matter.  He was fighting again, I could tell.  More than he ever had before, in fact, coming home with more bruises than he could hide or football practice could account for. 

I didn't have to ask.  The guys must have been talking about me again, and I knew just the types of things they'd be saying.  When girls with my reputation were attacked, it was a no-brainer, to my mind at least, that I'd be blamed for whatever the rumor mill was saying had happened.  It'd likely been blown out of proportion, and I figured I was either being called a liar or a slut. 

I didn't hear any of the rumors directly myself, but every new bruise on Dante's body told me the story as clear as though I were reading it on paper. 

Just when I thought I couldn't love him more. 

Detective Harris came to the house twice to talk to me, but he had no new information about the case, and as soon as he realized that Gram was as good as glued to my side, he quickly found a reason to leave. 

"I do not like that man," Gram said, after the second visit.  She was studying my face.  "Darling, do me a favor, always insist that I be there when he needs to speak to you.  Always." 

I agreed happily, but Harris never came back to her house after that.  Instead, he started pulling me out of my classes at school when he wanted to have a word.  So much so, rumors started to go around that I was having an affair with 'the hot cop,' as he'd been fondly nicknamed by the girls at school. 

It infuriated me, especially so since he never seemed to be doing anything to find the man that had attacked me.  Instead, he wanted to have short, intense, meaningless conversations with me, always pretending it was 'official business.'

The third time he pulled me out of class, I was outright hostile toward him.  "Any updates on finding the man that attacked me, or are you just here to ask about my health again?" 

We were standing near my locker—he'd asked me to show him where it was—and he was looking around, barely paying me any mind at all. 

I clenched my jaw.  "And if you want to talk to me, I'm going to need to call Vivian Durant.  She's insisted that I not be alone with you."

That got his attention, his head snapping toward me, eyes narrowing on my face.  "What did you tell her?  You remember what I said, don't you?  Everything about this case is confidential.  If you share any information, with anyone, you could get yourself into big trouble, and we will never catch this guy."

I bit my lip, it wanted so badly to tremble.  What did this man want from me?  I honestly didn't know.  It seemed to me he enjoyed terrifying me, but I also knew I had some serious baggage where law enforcement was concerned.  "W-w-why did you pull me out of class?" 

"I told you, I want to see your locker.  Go ahead and open it up for me." 

I did, stepping back so he could look inside.  "What are you looking for?" I asked him.