Resurrection: A Dark High School Romance (The Sainthood - Boys of Lowell High #1)(10)

I close my eyes and remember the first time Daddy brought me here for training. I was fourteen, and it was a few months after the event which changed my life.

“This nice man is going to help, buttercup,” Dad said, crouching down in front of me and taking my hands as I cowered from the strange man with the disarming smile. “He’s going to show you how to fight so nothing can ever happen to you again.”

That piqued my interest. “What kind of fighting?” I asked, directing my question at my dad and not the stranger even though it was the stranger who answered.

“We will start with basic fitness and combat training and progress to marksmanship and defensive maneuvering techniques, survival tools, and basic first aid procedures among other aspects. By the time your training is complete, you will be proficient in handling a variety of different weapons and you will be fully competent to protect and defend yourself against any enemy attacks.”

“When do I begin?” I asked without hesitation, my thirst for vengeance already in full flow.

As Diesel’s strong arms wrap around me from behind, I wonder if Dad would still consider him a nice man if he knew all the carnal ways my commander now knows my body.





I wake a couple of hours later with my face pressed into Diesel’s chest. I lift my head, startled to find he’s still here. We usually have a couple rounds of hot sex, and then he takes off, not lingering for small talk.

We both know what this is.

That it has boundaries and a time limit, and I’m more than okay with that.

I learned how to separate my emotions from the act of sex when I was fifteen and I willingly gave my virginity to the guy I was fake dating at the time.

Back then, I entered into a sexual relationship understanding it wasn’t, and never would be, love, and it helped me approach the physical act as just that. A way of experiencing untold pleasure without looking for anything but an orgasm.

It has stood me well.

I’ve never fallen in love with any of my sexual partners or either of my two previous boyfriends.

Both those relationships served a different purpose anyway.

So, if Diesel is still here, it means he wants to talk.

I prop up on one elbow, placing my hand on the solid wall of muscle that is his chest, peering into his eyes. “Did you sleep at all?” I ask, tracing patterns against his skin.

“No.” He runs his hand up and down my back.

“So, you were just watching me like a legit creeper?” I tease, touching the old scar tissue on the left side of his chest.

“Pretty much,” he agrees, offering me a rare smile.

Diesel takes his job very seriously, and it still amazes me that we fell into bed in the first place. After the first session I had with him, post Dad’s death, I was so consumed with grief I pounced on him, and I think he didn’t have it in him to turn me down.

Plus, I’m experienced enough to know how to please a man, and I’m certain he’s enjoyed our illicit trysts even if it battles with that sensible, logical part of his brain.

“You’re so beautiful, Harlow,” he says, placing his hand over my left breast. “And I’m not just talking about the outside. Your inner strength and your indomitable will to survive is the most beautiful thing about you. I wish I was ten years younger so I could be worthy of you.”

I lean down and kiss him, surprised to see so much emotion swirling in the depths of his pale-blue eyes. “Even if you were, your strict moral code and unrelenting loyalty to your job wouldn’t allow you to permit anything permanent between us. We both know that.”

“My boss, and your dad, would not react well to this.”

“Your boss doesn’t know, and my dad is dead.”

“I’m so much older than you, and you were in mourning. It was wrong to respond to your advances when you were vulnerable.”

I shake my head. “I’m eighteen now, and I know what I’m doing. You helped me that night. You gave me exactly what I needed, and you shouldn’t have any regrets because I don’t.”

“You were only seventeen that first time,” he says, and I see how much he hates himself for taking advantage of me. That’s how he sees it in his head, and nothing I say will likely change his mind.

“It was still legal, and you didn’t force me into anything. Don’t beat yourself up over it.” This is becoming too heavy, and I avoid that shit like the plague. I ease out from under his arm, dropping flat on my back. I stare at the stark-white ceiling as I pull the sheet up over my naked chest. “And it’s only sex. We can stop this at any time.” I turn my head to his, cupping his stubbly cheek, smiling at him with genuine affection. “My heart isn’t invested, Diesel. You won’t hurt me. I’ll miss the sex, but it won’t break me.”

Not much does anymore.

Although my dad’s death came close to it.

He stares deep into my eyes. “Sometimes, I think your dad was so wrong. That we took it too far. That we’ve taken too much from you.”

“You weren’t the ones who took from me, and I have no regrets,” I lie. I can’t admit the truth to anyone, because saying it out loud will only make my suspicion too real. I need to fix it first before I can even begin to come to terms with the consequences of my actions.

That’s the end of our conversation, and quite possibly, this is the last time I’ll watch Diesel getting dressed in my bedroom.