𝐆𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐬 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 [𝟏𝟖+] ✔

20

Eric is furiously marching ahead of me.

I had barely made it to the end of the path from my place and he was already halfway to the manor, booting into electrical boxes sitting outside each house.

Not once has he turned around to see if I'm even behind him.

Why couldn't my dad have allowed cars into the dome? I'd never be left behind by a driver, plus, walking sucks when you've been doing nothing but fighting and running for the past three weeks.

I miss cars, but they made people so goddamn lazy.

There are a few bicycles, but nobody in VIP has access to them because my dad gave them to the lower demographic area, so they are able to get to their work without walking for at least an hour to the middle of the dome.

Oh, and I'm getting really mad at this idiot.

Eric has barely looked in my direction since pinning me to the bed and nearly kissing me. He'd thrown himself off me before our lips touched, like some crazy Edward Cullen wannabe, muttering swear words repeatedly to himself and running a shaking hand through his hair while pacing my bedroom floor.

Looking ready to pass out, Eric's face had gone white like he'd seen a ghost, breathing erratically while he paced my bedroom some more, explaining how wrong and irresponsible we were, how bad a disloyalty it is to my dad, that it goes against his contract. Finishing off his bollocking, he had said that it would never happen again, that it can't, that we need to fight temptation no matter what.

I had stood my ground, though, stating he was the one who started with me, he was the one who pulled me between his legs, removed my dressing gown, and he was the one who whispered in my ear while my fingers trailed between my thighs.

And that's when he'd walked away, his face becoming more and more pale.

Now my confusing bodyguard is in some sort of emotional turmoil, morphing from pure, extreme rage, to being completely exasperated with himself as he hurries to the manor without the person he's supposed to be chaperoning.

It's an awesome feeling, to watch someone so ashamed of their actions with you, to hate themselves so much that they can't even look in your direction.

I'd rather have his initial rejection than this, rather he had told me to stop or just never came near me at all.

Who does he think he is, though? I'm not the type to randomly perform sexual acts on myself in front of someone, especially bloody Eric of all people. For God's sake, I've only ever been intimate with Robbie and never have I done that, only kissed one other person and that was during a dare when I was eleven.

And here he is, huffing and swearing, rushing away from me like I'm some sort of disease.

He can go fuck himself.

"You do know that you're supposed to be escorting me?" I yell out to him, causing him to stop in his tracks, throwing his head back in annoyance, probably uttering a swear word to himself but he's too far away to hear.

Showing up at the gates without me would be stupid, and most likely get him into trouble for not doing his job properly, not to mention that we're late.

But isn't he still suspended? How is he allowed to do any form of security work?

He turns to walk again, slower, but still too fast for me to catch up without going over my ankle in these ridiculously high heels. "Can you slow the hell down?" I shout, hand to my hip, but he ignores me and keeps going. "What. A. Wanker," I mutter to myself.