Wicked Games

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Hope's POV...

Just breathe in and out, I calm myself. I walk back in the house, walk upstairs to see his hoes getting ready. They're putting clothes on as fast as possible, I guess they're thinking I'm his girlfriend.

Two blonde and one brunette Ukrainian, taller than me, long-legged girls left house and I'm all alone.

I make my way down in living room. I sit on midnight blue, corner sofa and rest my head on armrest while checking kitchen's door. I don't know why I'm worried, conscience bothers me. My phone is ringing. I answer.

"Hey," there's soft voice greeting me.

"Hey"

"How are you dear? Did you sleep?" I chuckle as he clarifies word. We were out whole night. I hate to admit but it was one of the best nights in my life.

"I didn't. I despise the fact that I was thinking about last night whole time."

"Were you? Really? Damn, that's thrilling to hear. I despise the fact that I was doing the same." Ashton laughs. His cute little laugh forces me to smile too.

He's good, very good, too good for me. I like his energy, the way he behaves even tho I know him for two days. I do like spending time with him but I know, only thing I bring to him is pain and nothing else. I don't want to be plague in another humans life.

He reminds me moon and I know I'm the darkness trying to swallow him. I'm in a hope that stars will help and summer breeze scatters the cloud for him to shine, for him to enlighten me. I shouldn't be doing this to him but I know myself, I won't stop. My smile fades away.

"Hm, let me guess, and then you were like I won't call her, she's probably sleeping—"

"Right and then I said fuck it and called." He cuts me off and laughs again. Last thing I can is smiling but I need to calm my guilt built in my gut. "So, can I come over?" His tender voice starts to chain on my body and I shiver.

"Sure." I say.

"And your fake husband?"

"Don't worry about him."

"Alright, I'll be there soon." Ash hung up.

Few minutes pass. There's doorknob opening sound. I expect it to be Ashton but in my surprise it's Kent. His right arm is bloody, wet clothes stick sculpted body, dirty-blonde hair turn into light walnut brunette.

He looks too good to be real. Pretty and handsome all at once. I can feel how dense the air has become. Too dense. I don't like the tension I feel just by looking at him.

I sigh as I sip my coffee. "Failure."

"You pushed me." No rage, no irritation, just serene. His silence is dangerous, his words are dangerous at this point.

"Did you die?" I answer swiftly.

"No."

"Failure." Another sigh leaves my parted lips. I should go upstairs and splash cold water.

I stretch on my way upstairs when he grips my arm and turns me aggressively to face him. I'm pinned agains the dresser, he's coming closer and closer and closer. His hands lean on wooden furniture each side of me.

I try to detach from him. As I move he grabs both of my wrist and tugs them behind me. That's it, I'm wrapped in his arms, I can't move. Our chests are pressing each other and my eyes can't see anything but his.

Heartbeat increased and I can't breathe, I'm not even talking about thinking or speaking ability. He's so close and I hate that I love it. I hate that he's able to do it but I cannot resist. I hate that he's that powerful.